


lake michigan

by andsmile



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Archie Andrews Needs a Hug, Drama & Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gang Violence, Love Triangles (With A Twist), Mother-Son Relationship, Multi, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Everything, Slow Romance, Teenage Drama, Varchie!Centric, tw: anxiety, tw: anxiety attacks, tw: car accident, tw: emotional abuse, tw: teacher/student (statutory rape)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 208,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13638798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andsmile/pseuds/andsmile
Summary: Archie is forced by his parents to move to Chicago, and finds himself starting over in a new school, with new friends. All he wants is to get through the year, but then there’s something about Veronica Lodge…Or, it would be a tragedy of epic proportions if they had never met.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please, remember that english is not my first language. i apologize for any mistakes and i'm always willing to learn! i did find an amazing person to help me with it, though, so this fic is now mostly beta'd. thanks nic! you're the best.

_now, I'm ready to start_

 

 

 

The 23rdday of August finds Archie Andrews, barely seventeen, on a plane crossing the American skies. He’s got a window seat — and he’s not afraid of heights — but it’s somehow unsettling to see such a small world beneath him, trees and roads and clouds passing by fast as if they were never there.

His headphones are on. The soft melody coming through makes his fingers prickle; he wants to play his guitar, which is securely stowed in the overboard compartment. He wants to sing something, to write a song about all the things he was being forced to leave behind, about all the miles that could be only inches from above, about things being nothing but a matter of perspective.

An example: from his perspective, this was highly unnecessary. He had  _feelings_ for her — he’s not sure it was love, or  _what_ , but they were there,  _feelings_ ; they meant more than anything else that ever happened in his small-town boy life, and he was willing to fight for them.

From his parents’ perspective, however, this was the only option. He had heard them arguing and had seen the finger-pointing. They talked about him as if he wasn’t in the room, as if he didn’t have a say in  _any_ of this (even though it was  _his_ life, but apparently not until a July down the road when he'd turn eighteen), and all the decisions were made so quickly. He would never have thought Fred and Mary could agree on something so fast, not after the divorce.

And from Geraldine’s perspective,  _well_. He didn’t know a lot about it. All he knew was that she agreed on everything very quickly and that he’d never heard so many  _yeses_ coming out of her mouth, not even when he was inside her – “ _yes,_ I will quit the job”, “ _yes_ , I think this is for the best”, “ _yes,_ of course", “ _yes._ ”

There were so many things Archie wanted to ask her. Mostly, if she missed him as  _he_ missed her, skin on skin, and their amazing connection through music. She had changed his goals. She had helped him figure out his mind and his body. She was his first, and he would gladly accept her being his last. But everything happened so fast — and endedso fast — and now he’s not sure she has ever felt the same.

But he couldn’t ask her — his parents had changed his number, deleted her contact, and made her block him from every form of social media. They had no way to reach out to one another, and he was  _moving_ eight hundred miles away. There is a little part of him thinking that if things were inverted — if  _she_ was being forced to move because of their relationship — he would stop at nothing to go after her.

That was, of course,  _his_ perspective.

Archie takes a deep breath and it fogs up the window.

 

 

 

Landing is a bit bumpy, his two large suitcases containing his whole wardrobe take  _forever_ to turn up. He leaves the arrivals gates looking for his mom, whose red hair should stick out, but he sees no one. Frowning, he reaches for his phone — she was supposed to pick him up, and his flight wasn’t early or delayed, so…

“Hey, Archie,” he hears someone call him through the crowd. “Here, buddy!”

It doesn’t take him long to find Jeffrey, his mother’s… partner? boyfriend? waving at him. He’s wearing a blue Chicago Cubs hat on his shaved head, and his smile is way too big for his face. Archie’s jaw clenches. He has been (mostly internally) dealing with Jeffrey’s existence for three years since Mary found him and brought him to her house, but he has never  _ever_ thought they would have to live under the same roof.

“Hi.” Archie pushes his cart toward him, as Jeffery opens his arms to hug him like they were good friends. Jeffrey had  _always_ done that, ever since Archie was an angsty fourteen-year-old, and it has always overwhelmed him a bit – his reaction was ever the same, a little pat on Jeffrey’s back followed by an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. “Where’s Mom?”

“Couldn’t leave the office,”  _of course_ , Archie thinks. The reason his parents’ marriage fell apart five years ago, the law firm that meant more to his mother than anything or anyone. Jeffrey seems unbothered by it, “But I’m here! How do you feel about some pizza? There’s also a good game on tonight. Maybe I can sneak you a beer before your mom gets home? You know, so you feel more welcomed?”

Archie swallows hard. He couldn’t be less hungry — he can’t believe his mother had the time to fly across the country and help his dad  _ruin his life_ but couldn’t find the time to pick him up at the airport.

 

 

 

 

The drive from O’Hare to his mother’s and Jeffrey’s — and now  _his —_  place takes about an hour with the traffic. Since the divorce, he has spent one weekend every two months and two weeks in the summer with his mother (and Jeffrey) in the city, so everything is familiar – but it looks a lot  _different_ now that he knows he’ll be spending his whole senior year there.

Archie always thought that it was pretty cool that it was an apartment and not a house. Riverdale barely had any buildings, even fewer  _tall_ buildings with fire escapes on their exteriors and industrial pipes on the apartments ceilings.

When he was younger, he loved to be here, loved the city lights and having to  _buzz_ people in, and loved the unquiet feeling of a big city, but now it feels a little claustrophobic, a little overwhelming. In Riverdale, it was only him, his father, and Vegas. Now, it was going to be him, his mother, and  _Jeffrey_ , in an apartment that had one bedroom, a place that she bought because it was never her intention for her child to come  _live_ with her, and his new room would be an old office where he used to sleep in an air mattress during Christian holidays.

“We spent the whole week fixing it up for you,” Jeffrey announces as he opens the office door. Archie feels even weirder when he sees that they  _did_ turn the office into an actual room, with a bed and a real mattress by the floor-height window, and that his mom’s bookshelf was replaced by a wardrobe. It was very much smaller than his bedroom in Riverdale, of course, with white walls that could belong to anyone’s room, and someone had hung colorful foam letters with his name on one of the walls as if he was a four-year-old. “Doesn’t it look great?”

 _It doesn’t_ , he wants to say, but there’s a part of him that’s glad that at least they  _tried_. Nodding, he takes his suitcases and his guitar inside and looks around wondering how he is ever going to fit all his stuff in that little room.

“I’ll call for the pizza, and get that beer,” Jeffrey announces, tapping on his shoulder. “Welcome, buddy.”

He closes the door when he leaves, but through the thin walls, Archie still can hear his footsteps and his voice on the telephone as he calls the pizzeria. After walking towards his new bed, he lets his body fall onto the new mattress. He takes his phone out of his pocket, but there’s no one in his contact list anymore, no one that  _matters_ ; his notifications from his old friends are all memes and random stuff, and the only new message he’s got is from his father, wondering if he landed alright.

Archie really hates looking at that message.

 

 

 

 

He eats pizza and sips beer with Jeffrey in the living room as a baseball game is on the television. At least while they’re playing, Jeffrey isn’t talking, and Archie wonders what his mom would say if she saw him drinking — wasn’t it ironic? That she moved him miles away because he was  _too young_ for Geraldine, but he was old enough to share a beer with her boyfriend who was, by the way, younger than her?

(Okay — not eighteen years younger,  _he knows_  — and no one is a minor,  _he knows —_  but still.)

Unfortunately (or not), she gets home long after the game, and the beer, is over, and Jeffrey has cleaned up everything. Archie is still unpacking, lazily folding t-shirts and hanging cardigans, when he hears everything — the door opening, her excited greetings to Jeffrey, the wet sound when they kiss hello, her heels against the wooden floor while she walks towards his room, and at last, the knock on his door.

She doesn’t wait for him to answer to open the door, a big smile on her face. “Honey!”

“Hey, mom,” he smiles a little despite himself and hides his face in the crook of her neck when she holds him tightly. He breathes in the sweet smell of her perfume, and the familiarity of it makes him even sadder.

“Jeffrey said you two had a nice time,” she sounds excited when she pulls away and doesn’t seem to notice the way Archie’s eyes are prickling. “Did you like your room?”

He shrugs, and thinks of saying  _whatever_ , it’s just a room, a white room with a bed and stupid lettering on the walls, but says “It’s cool,” instead.

“Come here,” she takes him by the hand, so they can sit together on the bed. He can hear Jeffrey’s enthusiastic cheering in the living room, as he watches yet another baseball game on the television. Archie looks at his mom, and they look so much alike, the red hair and the brown eyes, the same curve on their mouths. “I don’t expect this to be an easy transition for you.”

“It will be fine, mom, I just want to—”  _get this over with_ , he wants to say, but only draws in a sharp breath.

“This is a big city, so you have to be careful while walking around. The south part of the town can be violent, so avoid it. I expect you to be at home before eight on school nights, and before one on the weekends. I know I can trust you.”

“Mom, really, you don’t need to—”

“You’ll start school in a week. I talked to Mr. Keller, you know, Kevin’s father? The boy who lives next door?” Archie nods. He remembers Mr. Keller and his son well. Often during the time he spent in Chicago, Mary wouldn’t come home until late in the evening, and he would have dinner next door. He hasn’t really talked to Kevin, though, since they were fourteen. “I thought it would be better if you went to school with a friend, so I enrolled you in the same school he goes to! Isn’t it nice?”

It could be nice — except Kevin is  _not_ his friend. He hasn’t really spoken to Kevin for years. He had friends in Riverdale. He had a room he’d decorated and slept in for  _years_. He had friends he actually hung out with. He had a relationship with someone he wanted to be with, and now, he has the perpetual sound of Jeffrey’s endless games on the TV and a school his mother has chosen based on a stupid detail.

“In fact, Kevin gave me his number and said you should text him after you’re all settled. You know I have a busy work schedule, honey. But if you  _need_ anything, Jeffrey is around, and you can always count on me. You and I, we’re gonna fix this, together, okay?”

Fix it. Fix  _him_ , he thinks, because his mother thinks that he’s broken, that he was manipulated and abused and all the things he’s already heard her and his father talk about before. But he just nods, because really, there’s nothing else he can say or do to change his situation.

He’s cranky. He’s over it. He wants to go home.

Go  _back_ home.

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! my new fic is up, not long after my last fic is over. the response to your soul has blown me away, i’m sure you know that. i love writing #varchie so much, and i’ve noticed that more and more people are starting to read and look for #varchie fanfics, so hopefully, this can feed you well.
> 
> because you’re in for a long, long, long ride! a while ago an anon sent a prompt to [veronicadvalle](https://veronicadvalle.tumblr.com/) suggesting an AU where archie would be the one moving to a big city instead of veronica moving to riverdale. it caught my eyes immediately (I still hadn’t even begun writing your soul at that point), and after carefully plotting everything, I decided he would move to chicago with his mom (there’s a reason for everything) after his parents found out about his affair with ms. grundy (yes, I intend to deal with this trauma as well).
> 
> i’ve read some awesome role reversal fics for bughead (some of them are amongst my favorites, like [stealing home](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12484056/chapters/28417604)), and i love them, and i've always wanted that for archieronnie as well. what’s true to this fic is: not only archie and veronica are role reversed (still true to their characters, hopefully), but betty, jughead, cheryl, kevin, etc, they will all be a part of this new universe in different positions. i also have absolutely nothing against fred andrews (lol) but archie’s relationship with his mother is very interesting to me, so I wanted to play with that. for now, this will be on archie’s POV, but i might switch later on.
> 
> i *really* hope you like this. i am going through some very hard personal stuff now, and of course, a tragedy can change a person in many ways, but writing has gotten me through the darkest of times and I’m positive it will happen again. don’t forget to comment and make my day brighter.
> 
> song at the beggining is [ready to start](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9oI27uSzxNQ) by arcade fire!


	2. Chapter 2

_spoke a lot of words, I don't know if I spoke the truth_

 

 

 

Archie wakes up around nine with the sun on his eyes. It had taken him quite a while to fall asleep — there were cars running down the street all night, and somehow, he could  _feel_ the building trembling every time a subway train pulled its brakes into the nearest station — but the morning doesn’t bring him any more quietness. There are weak voices coming from somewhere, and he realizes it’s the television in the living room. He can also hear something  _frying_ in the kitchen and the faint sound of Jeffrey singing Frank Fucking Sinatra.

There’s nothing new in his notifications, not even something from his father. Archie takes a short trip to the bathroom, brushing his teeth to the sound of  _Fly Me To The Moon_ , which wouldn’t be all bad if Jeffrey wasn’t a terrible singer.

“Good morning, buddy!” Jeffrey greets him as soon as he shows up in the kitchen, and Archie feels exhausted already, even though he’s been up for exactly twenty minutes. “Breakfast is ready!”

Archie gets a plate with eggs and bacon. It’s weird that the kitchen and the living room occupy the same space; it’s weird that there’s no big breakfast table and that Jeffrey eats his food watching television. It’s even weirder that Archie has to eat while standing up if he doesn’t want to join his…  _stepfather_ on the couch.

He knows that Jeffrey works from home, doing God knows what, which is just a bonus added to this nightmare. But he  _assumes_ that at some point the TV will be turned off and he’ll be able to enjoy the silence and only break it with the soft sound of strumming chords.

But breakfast comes, and breakfast goes, Archie finishes unpacking and tidying up his room, the afternoon arrives in a sweltering heat and a bright, yellow sun in blue skies, and there’s no sign of Jeffrey doing anything but watching the sports channel. By five, Archie starts to think that he’ll drive himself crazy if he hears another narrator screaming about another amazing rundown, so he takes the piece of paper his mother gave him and his phone and opens his messaging app to text Kevin Keller.

**_hey man, this is archie andrews. my mom gave me ur number_.**

He presses send before he can talk himself out of it. The answer comes sooner than he expects, and his phone vibrates in his hand before he can even put it down,

**_hi!!! wanna come over?? going out 4 coffee in a bit._ **

Going out for coffee actually sounds better than moping around. Archie struggles with an answer before settling for an _**ok!** _ He puts on a clean t-shirt, tries to tame his red hair, and walks past the living room. Jeffrey, at last, has a computer on his lap and seems to be concentrated on that, but the television is still playing in the background.

Archie is not sure if he needs to ask for Jeffrey’s permission to go out, so he just says something on his way to the door, “I’m going out for coffee with…” he’s not sure how to call the guy he used to play Dungeons & Dragons with a thousand summers ago, “Mr. Keller’s son.”

Jeffrey doesn’t seem bothered, doesn’t even lift his eyes up from the screen, “Sure, kiddo. Remember your mother’s rules.”

He does.

 

 

 

The walk to the Keller’s apartment is even shorter than the walk from his room to the kitchen, and the fact that he can  _still_ hear things related to baseball from  _outside_ makes Archie keener to the social experiment. He rings the bell and waits for an answer with his hands in his pockets.

Kevin Keller opens the door a couple of minutes later — he’s laughing at something, or someone, and his smile stays on when he sees Archie. They’re about the same height now — Archie remembers being taller, at some point — but his early teen chubbiness has faded away. He looks a lot stronger. Archie scratches the back of his head. “Hey, Kev.”

“Woah, Archie Andrews!” Kevin’s smile is so easy and warm — it actually reminds him of Jeffrey, and Archie is not sure what to do with that. Kevin pats Archie’s arm. “It’s been a while. Where were you hiding? Come in!”

He gives space for Archie to walk inside. The Keller’s apartment is not that different from his mother’s, the same open kitchen concept, the same industrial pipes on the ceiling. It hasn’t changed all that much in three years, either. The television in the living room’s corner, however, and thank God, is off. There is a checkers board on the carpet, two empty lemonade glasses on a tray, and a girl taking the round black and white pieces and stowing them.

Archie takes a quick look at her — she’s blonde and unmistakably beautiful, the kind of pretty that you see in magazines. She gives him an easy smile, just like Kevin’s, and Archie ends up smiling back. Her hair is up in a neat ponytail and she’s wearing a whole lot of pastel colors.

“Betty, this is Archie, the guy I was telling you about,” Kevin says, and the girl, Betty, gets up to shake Archie’s hand. “This is Betty Cooper.”

“Hi,” she says, and her voice matches the whole sweet girl thing she’s got going on, “nice to meet you! Kev said you just moved here?”

“Yeah, just arrived yesterday,” he says, feeling his cheeks heat up a little bit. It was always like that when he was meeting new people, especially girls. It occurs to Archie that she might be Kevin’s girlfriend, and he feels a little bad for thinking she was pretty — but Kevin doesn’t seem to care about his red ears, putting an arm around him like they were best friends already.

“Archie here is a small-town boy, and it’s our duty to make sure he has a good time in the Windy City.”

“Where did you live before, Archie?”

“Riverdale. It’s in upstate New York.” He clears up his throat. There’s a lot he could say about Riverdale — the maple syrup is the best, Sweetwater River is actually a Hudson River affluent, and you can really sleep at night, it's so quiet — but he’s afraid talking about it will just make him miss it even more.

Kevin’s grip on his shoulder is a little firmer before he lets go, and Archie feels a little warm inside like this is something good. These are nice people.

“We were about to head down to Lou’s and have some coffee, maybe some pancakes, if you’re up for it,” Kevin says, taking the empty glasses and putting them on the kitchen sink. Archie nods, still feeling weirdly embarrassed, and throws a glance at Betty, who is tightening her ponytail.

“Sure, if your girlfriend doesn’t mind.”

Both of them get horrified looks, mouths hanging in surprise. “Oh no,” Kevin says first, and Betty follows him, giving her head a minute shake. “No, no, no, no.”

“I’m gay.”

“He’s gay.”

They say in unison.

Archie’s face probably turns pinker than Betty’s lipstick — he doesn’t mind, of course not, he just feels like a white, straight moron for _assuming_ these kinds of things when he knew he shouldn’t.

“And I gotta say,” Kevin winks at him, “you got hot, sir!”

“ _Kevin!_ ”

Betty slaps Kevin’s arm playfully, but she’s laughing. Kevin is laughing too, and Archie ends up chuckling as well.

It’s the first time since he arrived in the city.

 

 

 

 

It was a ten-minute walk from the apartment to Lou’s, a breakfast diner that looked a little displaced between brick buildings as it belonged to the wrong era. It immediately makes Archie think of Pop’s, his go-to in Riverdale, and part of his newfound contentment seems to vanish.

Kevin and Betty don’t seem to notice, laughing about something as they walk into the diner. The differences then are much more remarkable – the place is much bigger than Pop’s, much more modern too, with mirrors and silver plates on the walls. There is twice the number of booths, and the clatter and babble around are much louder. Archie can't see himself sitting down and doing his homework over a milkshake — damn, he can't see himself on a  _date_ in such a busy place — but Kevin and Betty look very comfortable even with all that noise.

A waiter takes them to an empty booth. Kevin and Betty sit on one side, and Archie takes the other. “I think it’s a double mocha kind of day,” Kevin says, glancing at the menu. Betty says something about iced-tea. Then she looks somewhere beyond Archie’s head, and her green eyes get brighter as she smiles at someone.

“Juggie!” she calls, waving a hand. Archie looks back to see a boy their age wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. He’s also wearing a crown-shaped  _beanie_  (in August). The way he smiles at Betty when he sees her makes Archie think that maybe  _he’s_ the boyfriend. “You came!”

“You said you were treating,” he says, approaching the booth. Betty and Kevin laugh, and only then  _Juggie_ seems to notice Archie. “So this is the new guy?”

Archie’s ears are heating up again, as he reaches out for a handshake. “Archie. Andrews.”

The guy ignores his gesture, jumping over him to sit at his side in the booth, as he says, “Jughead Jones, the Third.”

“Jughead Jones, the Third,” Archie repeats, and then laughs a little bit, “that's a cool name, bro.”

It isn't the reaction Jughead, the third of his name (which was, for real, pretty cool), was expecting, because he looks at Archie like the redhead is an alien, and then smiles. “Thanks,  _bro._ ”

Betty cracks up, for whatever reason.

After the waiter collects their orders — Archie decides on chocolate-chip pancakes and follows Kevin’s advice on the double mocha — the four of them fall into surprisingly easy conversation, telling stories about their summers and expectations for the next year. Archie keeps quiet most of the time — it’s not like he can tell his new acquaintances about how his life is actually falling apart during the summer — but he does answer their questions about Riverdale and living with his dad.

The only moment Archie feels unsettled is when the topic shifts to college and all things related. He learns that Kevin has already sent in some applications – Betty wants Columbia and nothing else. They speak of essays and tests, and Archie feels strangely connected to Jughead, who seems very focused on his fries all of sudden. Maybe he has a suffering GPA too, Archie thinks. Maybe he also needs to retake the SATs, and maybe he too is screwed.

He must look a little forlorn in his thoughts, because all of a sudden, Betty says, “We’ll help you, Arch,” and Kevin nods his head, agreeing. “I know it’s not easy to change schools in the senior year.”

“Thanks, guys,” Archie says, smiling faintly at her, “I’ll take it.”

She looks pleased. “We can set up a study group or something.” But then, her voice is a little more careful, as she looks at Jughead, and her fists curl into a ball over the table, “You should come too, Juggie.”

“I’m alright,” he says, looking like anything but  _alright_ as he shifts in his seat. “I’m going to… There’s a tutoring center at Southside High.”

The conversation Archie had with his mom last night comes back to him; he remembers how she had said that the south part of the city wasn’t all that great. Archie’s legs feel a little jittery, because he assumed the four of them would be in the same school, coming next week, and because this was probably an uncomfortable subject between the other three.

He sees Kevin placing his hand over Betty’s. She uncurls her fists after taking a deep breath, but it’s Kevin who says, “That’s great news, Jug.”

Jughead is about to say something, but he’s saved by the bell when his phone _beeps —_  it’s an older model, with buttons instead of a touchscreen, and Archie had only seen one of those in the early 00’s movies — as a new message arrives. From where he’s sitting, Archie can see a little envelope and the name _Veronica_ , but he quickly looks away when he realizes he’s snooping.

“Listen, I gotta go,” Jughead says after reading the message. “It was nice to meet you, Archie.”

“Yeah, man,” he says, giving space so Jughead can slide off his seat, “same.”

Once he’s standing up, Jughead shoves his hand in his pockets and takes out a creased five-dollar note, leaving it on the table in front of Betty, who pushes it away immediately, her voice a little lower than before. “Juggie, I told y –”

“ _Betts,_ ” he breathes, sounding exasperated, and they look at each other for a long, lingering and, for Archie, very uncomfortable moment, before she sits back, defeated, and he murmurs something like  _see you guys_ , leaving the diner.

There’s a round of silence as they all watch Jughead walk away, but when Archie looks, Betty is smiling again, as if nothing had ever happened. “Excuse me, I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she says politely.

“Oh, these two,” Kevin says as soon as she leaves the table, ponytail bouncing as she walks towards the restroom with careful steps.

“What’s up with them?” Archie asks, out of sheer curiosity, still feeling ill at ease.

“Let’s put it this way,” Kevin takes a sip of his coffee, “Betty and Jughead aren’t dating, but they _are_ endgame.”

Archie smiles faintly, but then remembers the text that made Jughead leave —  _Veronica —_  and feels a bizarre sort of  _guilt_ settling in his stomach, something he’s felt before with Geraldine.

Like he is keeping a secret.

 

 

 

 

The thing Veronica Lodge likes the most about Chicago is how the lake is almost always the exact same color as the sky (blue with blue, gray with gray, white with white). It’s not even six, but the sun is starting to set — earlier and earlier each day, now that summer is about to end — and she feels a little bad for not spending the month here. She’s a senior now, and soon she’ll graduate, maybe move across the country to start university, and she’s going to miss the city, and the lake.

Cheryl is saying something about something — it still baffles her, after fifteen years of friendship, how the redhead never ceases to talk — but she isn’t paying much attention. The holidays were great but coming back home also meant coming back to its problems. She has made a decision, and she intends to stick with it. What she’s not sure of is how things will be after she tells her parents about it.

But it is time for her to take a new role in Lodge Industries. She can't let them keep doing — whatever they were doing. She will clean up their act even if it is the last thing she does on this earth. Their name, their  _dignity_ , they can't be thrown away so fast over... rumors.

 _Más donde hay humo, hay fuego_ , her grandmother used to say, and Veronica knows she was right. It is time.

“V? Are you okay?” Cheryl asks, placing her manicured hand over Veronica’s, red nail polish on long, pale fingers. “You look worried.”

“Oh,” Veronica bites down her lower lip, glancing at the other girl, “I’m just… Yeah.” She sighs, and then lies, “I am thinking about Reggie.”

Cheryl raises an arched eyebrow. “You know I can get him murdered if you ask me.”

Veronica holds Cheryl’s hand in hers and smiles. She leans in to lay her head on her friend’s shoulder, who shifts a little in the seat, so she can rest her cheek against Veronica’s forehead. “I know. I’m fine, though. It’s just— I guess a little part of me hoped it would be okay, after all those weeks, but now we’re back here and…”

“And I can still get him murdered if you ask me.”

Veronica chuckles, “Maybe your brother can help me get over it.”

Cheryl makes an inflated  _ew_  sound. “Polly Cooper can probably get  _you_ murdered if I ask her.”

Veronica’s smile dies on her lips. Thinking about Polly makes her think about Betty, and thinking about Betty makes her stomach hurt.

“I have an idea,” Cheryl says in a soft, careful voice after they’ve spent a couple of minutes in silence. “Don’t get back together with Reggie.”

Veronica hides her face in Cheryl’s shoulder, breathing in the sweetness of her perfume, intact even after an eleven-hour flight. She wasn’t, actually, thinking about Reggie, but now she is. She still hasn’t figured out what she wanted from him, and that is just another setback she will have to deal with the next few days. Cheryl presses a kiss on the top of Veronica’s head, and before they can say anything else, the car slows down and parks in front of Thornhill, the tall building in which the Blossom family owns the penthouse.

“Text me if you need something,” Cheryl says as they briefly hug each other. The driver has opened the door, and Veronica rolls her eyes, slightly amused, as she sees him checking Cheryl out when she gets out of the car. The doorman comes to help with the suitcases, and Veronica waves when Cheryl turns around and smiles at her.

The car keeps going up the boulevard. It’s only a few minutes of silence until she arrives at the Pembrooke, but it stills leaves her unsettled. She remembers, a couple of years ago, kissing Reggie in the back of another town car, down this very same road, and she remembers the taste of his mouth — expensive champagne — and the feel of his body against her, the first time she ever kissed a boy and thought  _yes_.

So, the list of her impending problems is just growing. Her parents, Reggie, and, _oh_. She reaches for her phone, taking in a deep breath, and remembers that she made a promise to herself, before leaving, and that she intended to keep it.

 _**jughead** ,  _ she types.  ** _i'_** ** _m home._ **

 

 

 

 

 _tbc_  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, so the response was unbelievable! i got so many comments in the first chapter – i hope i don’t disappoint. i asked around if you preferred shorter chapters and more updates, or fewer updates and longer chapters, and i got votes for both sides, but i decided to start in the shorter side since there’s a lot of new information and i don’t want you to be overwhelmed.
> 
> in this chapter, archie meets the new gang, learns that there’s drama prior to his arrival, and learns that there’s someone called veronica somewhere in chicago. also, veronica’s POV! is the first time i’ve ever written it, let me know what you think. in this fic, with the whole role-reversal, cheryl is ronnie’s best friend (they grew up together) just like betty is archie’s in canon. i know she seems very affectionate, but cheryl is affectionate even in canon, so i will stick to that trait.
> 
> please note that the text veronica writes at the end is the same that archie sees Jughead receiving; both scenes are happening at the same time. what does she want with jughead? only time will tell.
> 
> let me know what you think, and i’ll start working on chapter 3 as soon as possible. i’m super excited about this story and i hope you stick with me. i want to answer your questions on my tumblr, andsmile!!
> 
> song at the beggining is [trouble](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AcDYTcTXtI8) by cage the elephant!


	3. Chapter 3

_there’s a song you know, if you listen close_

 

 

 

Veronica washes the tiredness of the eleven-hour flight off in a quick shower and puts herself together very carefully. She blow-dries her hair and spends a little extra time framing her brown eyes with little eyeliner wings. Warriors used to paint their faces before going to war, and she always thought that makeup was something like that — another layer to shield her from the disquiet.

There’s a knock on her door when she’s carefully applying red lipstick — she looks at the papers on her bed, gathers everything together very quickly, and hides them under the pillows before saying, “Come in!”

“Mija _,_  you’re home!” Hermione Lodge says, walking towards her to give her a hug. The penthouse was empty when Veronica arrived – her parents were still in the office. She hugs back, feeling something coil in her stomach. “How was Switzerland? Did you have a great time? How was the new hotel?”

“Everything was amazing. The St. Clairs don’t disappoint.”

“Hm, glad to hear that.” She smooths down a curl on Veronica’s dark hair, noticing her daughter’s outfit. “Are you already going out? Your father will want to have dinner with you.”

“Yeah, I have something I…” Veronica clears up her throat, thinks of the lies she told Cheryl earlier, thinks of the lies she will  _have_ to tell her parents from now on. “I’m meeting with Reggie. I think he wants to talk about… you know.”

“Oh,” her mother says, “okay. I’ll let Hiram know that you’re busy.”

“I’ll try to be back before dinner.”

“No, don’t worry,” she says as Veronica turns around to look at her reflection in the mirror, “I am happy you are trying to rekindle with Reginald. Your father will be, too. The Mantles are good people,”  _good._  Good means a different thing to her parents than to the rest of the world. Good means important, means profitable, means good for the  _business_. Hermione gives her a little, pleased smile through the mirror. “Estás muy linda, mija.”

“Gracias, mom.” Veronica smiles back in perfectly painted red lips, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

 

 

 

 

She calls for an Uber to drive her downtown. The sun has almost completely set now, and the sky is painted in different tones of purple and red — but the lake still mimics it, reflecting the colorful city lights that have been turned on.

Everything is going according to plan. Cheryl thinks she’s with her parents, her parents think she’s with Reggie, and Reggie is probably not even thinking about her — not if his Instagram stories partying with an interchangeable string of blonde girls have something to say about it.

There’s a construction site blocking the street she wants to go down, so the car pulls over. She has to walk a block before reaching the public library, but the fresh air is welcome, helping ease the coil in her insides. She’s tired — jet-lag gets to you, even if you fly first class. She’s a little worried, but she’s going to do this.

Jughead is waiting for her in the lobby, where he said he would be. He’s, of course, wearing that stupid beanie, even if it’s still summer. He looks thinner than he was before she left for Europe, and his clothes are worn out. She walks with calculated steps towards him, heels cackling against the cold floor, and it’s probably the sound that makes him notice her.

He doesn’t smile, but she didn’t expect him to.

“Thank you for meeting me,” she says, in a voice that sounds way huskier than it should, like someone was watching them and they had to keep this a secret. “Have you thought about what I said to you?”

“I did,” he says, his brows creased together in his typical  _Jughead_ face, the expression he’s always worn around her, “and I can’t find a single reason why I should trust you.”

“ _Jughead,_ ” she breathes, looking around. There’s no one they know at the library, not at this hour, not while they are still on summer break, but the glass walls in the lobby are too revealing. They’re not that far from Lou’s, and the last thing she needs is for Kevin or  _someone else_ to see them there. She grabs Jughead’s wrist, pulling him under the staircase. “You don’t  _need_ to trust me. You just need to take my help.”

“If I leave anything in your hands I’ll just end up more screwed than I already am.”

She clenches her jaw. She remembers the first time she ever saw him, nine or ten years ago, back when FP Jones was her father’s right hand: a scrawny kid with black hair who thought he was so much better, so much smarter than them all, a child who spent more time alone than one should, a child that preferred real history to fairytales. She remembers because she maybe has seen  _herself_ in him, so many times, a stupid understanding.

Cheryl hated him, back then, just as much as Cheryl probably hates him now. Veronica hated him a little bit too: they often had to interrupt their girly games, so they could fit him in the picture. His father was loud and chatty, drinking too much at galas and family events; his mother looked  _cheap_ and didn’t know anything about table etiquette. After a while, he only really smiled when Betty was around wearing that fucking halo on her head.

(There’s more to it, of course, like when they were nine, and he got the best English grade in their class. So she and Cheryl decided to put a whole bottle of  _Nair_ in his shampoo after PE. All of his hair fell out, and he ended up looking like a jug. Betty spent six weeks without talking to Veronica but came around once he started using that stupid nickname — _Jughead —_  instead of his even stupider name.)

But still — last year, when her father fired Mr. Jones, and everything fell apart, it didn’t _feel_ right. Cheryl laughed about it and Betty cried. But Veronica, she spent so many nights sleepless that she couldn’t count, as she imagined Jughead living in a dangerous neighborhood, Jughead struggling in a school full of thugs, Jughead wearing ragged clothes.

She still sees herself when she looks at him, and it makes her sick. “You’re gonna think whatever you want to think,” she says, and then opens her purse so she can get the envelope with the papers she hid from her mother earlier on and shove them against his chest. “Look, I’m probably already in. It doesn’t matter to me anymore. I can make a donation or something. I can help you recover your grades, and get you in too. You know I can.”

For the slightest moment, Veronica thinks that Jughead will swallow his pride and accept her offer — he looks at the papers, drinks in the amount of information, and his mouth does that thing it does from time to time as his lips tilt downwards in a little pout — but then he just shoves them back at her, that idiot.

“Fuck you, Veronica. I am not your charity case.”

He walks away before she can say anything, which is probably a good thing — Veronica feels her face hot and bares her teeth, trying to find _anything_ that can stop the little voice inside her mind telling her to go home and send someone to cut his fucking tongue out. Wouldn’t be so hard.

Veronica takes in a couple of deep breaths and puts the papers neatly back into the envelope, taking them to the receptionist, a girl that cannot be too much older than her, whom she greets with her best smile. “Good evening. A boy from my school just forgot these papers over a table upstairs. Do you think you could give them to him when he comes back, which he will? I would deliver them myself, but word says he has this huge crush on me. I’m afraid that if I talk to him he’d get the wrong impression.”

“Are you sure? Maybe it can lead to something good.”

“Well, I do have a boyfriend, sis, but maybe if you give him the papers… He’s cute, you know.”

The girl laughs a little. “I’ll do my best. What’s his name again?”

“Forsythe. Yes, I  _know_.”

 

 

 

 

Betty comes back from the restroom and takes her time un-creasing the five-dollar bill Jughead left in front of her before leaving, while Kevin does most of the talking.

Archie laughs and comments pointedly at everything his neighbor says, but keeps throwing worried glances at Betty, who doesn’t touch her food or anything but that note. He feels guilty that he knows something she probably doesn’t — the existence of another girl — or maybe she  _does_ know about the other girl and that’s why she looks so miserable.

It’s a bummer, really, because Archie wanted to like Jughead, but it’s not in him to break bread with anyone who can make such a pretty, smiley girl look so sad.

“We should probably go back,” she says, once Kevin has played out all the possible conversation subjects he had in mind. “My curfew is nine o’clock.”

“Of course,” Kevin bumps his shoulders with hers, “Alice is waiting for you in Witchland.”

Archie has no idea what Kevin is talking about, but it makes Betty laugh again, even if it’s just a little bit. They ask for their check — Archie notices that she kept Jughead’s note in her wallet and paid her and his part with a debit card.

“Hey,” Archie reaches out for her as they leave the diner, touching her wrist. She turns around and gives him a gentle smile. “Are you okay? I can walk you home.”

He offers because it seems like the right thing to do — it’s what his father taught him, anyway. He would always walk his girl friends home after school or after dinner at Pop’s, who always thought he was a gentleman for doing so.

But Betty chuckles, and it’s the second time in less than two hours that someone looks at him like he’s from another world. Kevin steps up, also laughing, “You are so endearing. Betty lives on the Gold Coast. It’s a full forty-minute bus ride to her home.”

Archie feels his ears and cheeks heat up again. In forty minutes you could probably walk around Riverdale in its entirety.

“But you _can_ … take the bus with me,” she says quickly, probably noticing the expression on his face. “Maybe get to know the town a little bit? I mean, if you don’t want to go home right away.”

Kevin nods. “And have two hours to spare.”

Archie thinks of how Jeffrey would probably ask him endless questions about his new friends, thinks of how he’ll still hear the television on even with his bedroom door closed, and decides he definitely doesn’t want to go to the loft just yet. It’s not even eight, and his mom had set a different curfew for the end of the summer. So, he’s safe in that department.

“Yeah, I’ll tag along.” He smiles a little.

Betty seems happy too, and her beam lights up her face for the first time since Jughead left. “Okay, cool! Wanna join us, Kev?”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Kevin says in a weird tune. Betty rolls her eyes as he teases, “I’ll get Archie to  _walk me home_ some other day.”

 

 

 

 

In the end, Kevin really refuses to join them on the bus ride, saying he needs to be home before his father. Archie texts his mother for good measure, letting her know that everything was alright, and walks with Betty down the W Jackson Boulevard, hands in his pockets.

Betty asks him little things that get him anxious while they hop on the 151 Bus heading east, and then north: has he visited the school? What are his plans for extracurriculars? Does he have a Ventra Card already? Or a map with the train lines?

They sit together in the back of the bus. Archie takes the window seat and answers _no_ to every single one of her questions, explaining that his mother was dealing with everything and that his moving was a little sudden — four weeks ago he had assumed he’d still be at Riverdale High for his senior year, graduating with his old friends.

Betty does not ask him why he had to move, and he’s thankful for that.

The bus crosses a bridge. Betty tells him it's a branch of the Chicago River. The sun has almost completely set, painting the sky in different colors, and the city lights are somehow enchanting. He thinks about that U2 song, the _City of Blinding Lights_ — he used to listen to that record over and over, lying on his living room carpet while his father cooked dinner.

She starts explaining things here and there as they go further east, “There was this wild kind of onion growing here when the natives inhabited the area. This French guy, Robert LaSalle, couldn’t speak the language correctly and called it _Chicagou_ , so here we go.”

“You’re a good teacher.” Archie glances at her for a moment, almost unable to take his eyes off the city passing by the window.

She smiles, grateful, but then it dies on her lips as she remembers something. “It’s a shame not everybody thinks the same.”

Archie sits up straighter. “Kevin told me you and that other guy…”

“Oh, God, _no,_ ” she blushes a little. “Kevin talks too much. You shouldn’t pay attention to anything he says. It’s all in his fertile imagination.”

“You looked pretty upset after he left.”

Betty takes a deep breath, and Archie notices how her hands curl up in her lap. “Jughead and I have been friends since forever — and  _yes_ , I might have had a little crush on him, once, but… I don’t know. Since he had to change schools, things have been...”

Archie feels that stir of guilt in his stomach again — that name,  _Veronica_ , on Jughead’s cellphone screen. He only grinds his jaw (he shouldn’t be prying into anyone’s lives like this, anyway) and watches Betty’s profile, the little wisps of golden hair coming out from her ponytail. She keeps staring ahead.

“His father lost his job at the beginning of junior year. Things were fine for a while, but then I guess they weren’t fine anymore. He had to move all the way down to Washington Park and started going to this school on the south side. He’s still around, you know. It’s just that… It’s like he’s this completely different person? He gets so… private over what’s going on in his life, and I can’t help him if he doesn’t let me. I can’t keep up.”

Archie thinks he understands her in a way — he feels like he doesn’t know Geraldine at all, anymore, and it’s like a piece of his body is missing somewhere he can’t see. He wants to say the right thing because she looks pretty upset again, but the bus makes another turn, prompting Betty to look excited at something outside.

“Oh, look! It’s Millenium Park!” Archie glances — he remembers that park from another visit, having a picture of himself and his mom in the  _Cloud’s_ reflection somewhere posted on his Facebook. “This means you are now in North Michigan Avenue, and as soon as we cross the river, we call it Magnificent Mile.”

She goes on, rambling about how the south part of the avenue was called Pine Street before – and somehow this story merges into another about the Jazz Festival that is going to start in a couple of days. Archie smiles softly as she speaks — he didn’t want to judge, but that Jughead guy was really an idiot.

 

 

 

 

Once the bus reaches the North Lake Shore Drive, it doesn’t take long for them to arrive at Betty’s place. They walk together from the bus stop to the crosswalk. Archie has seen Lake Michigan before, but never during the night, and it’s fascinating how it reflects the city lights along its shore. The air is a bit chillier now — the sun has completely set, and there are small gray clouds gathering in the sky. The air smells like summer rain.

“So, this is the Pembrooke,” Betty announces, stopping in front of a tall building. It’s the fanciest building Archie has ever laid eyes on — it looks like a hotel or something. He didn’t imagine Betty had so much money. She was so down to earth. He looks up as if he’s trying to count how many balconies there are. “Don’t be impressed. I’m only on the third floor.”

The third floor is lit up, but he can’t see anything from where they’re standing. He looks down at her again, and she has her arms across her chest like she’s a little cold.

“So, to head back, you just wait for the same bus on that stop.” Betty points a stop a few feet down the sidewalk.

“151.”

“Yep, you’re learning,” she says with a bright smile. “Thanks for walking me home, Arch. I’m really glad we’re going to be in the same school this year.”

“Thanks, Betty,” he smiles back at her. “It was nice to meet you.”

A light rain starts falling from the sky, but Archie decides the right thing to do is wait until she gets inside, watching as she runs up the small stairs that lead her to the lobby. His fingers are tapping on his thighs, to the rhythm of that U2 song still on his mind.

He checks his phone to see his mom answered his text with a _**don’t be out late**  _followed by a winky emoji. He would like to stay around and look at the lights — and now the light raindrops drawing patterns on the lake’s surface — but it’s better if he gets going.

Archie hums the song to himself — _and I miss you when you’re not around, I’m getting ready to leave the ground —_  as he turns around towards the bus stop almost at the same time a black car pulls over in front of the Pembrooke. The doorman runs with an umbrella to open the car’s door.

The first thing he sees is black heels, and he stops walking when he sees the girl that comes out the car. She’s so beautiful; she could have knocked him off his feet: waves of raven hair, miles of golden skin, sharp eyebrows framing big brown eyes. She looks like a work of art, but it’s _more_ than that — it’s the soft, red lipstick smile she throws at the doorman helping her. It’s the way her chin is tilted up in sheer confidence, the way her hips swing as she walks up the steps to the lobby.

There’s a force pulling him towards her, some sort of powerful energy upon him that he has never experienced before, and if Archie could think of anything in that moment, he would think about the lyrics he was about to keep humming — _oh, you look so beautiful tonight_ , and about the city of blinding lights around him.

The brunette walks into the building (of course she didn’t see him), and he feels his heart thumping at the base of his throat as she disappears. The night will go on as if nothing ever happened, but somewhere inside, Archie knows things are never going to be the same again.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg! i am so pumped to keep writing this story after seeing how you guys are excited about it as well! thank you, thank you, thank you! so, some answers are given in this chapter, mostly about jughead and veronica’s situation (no, they are not having a secret affair, but only we and they know that) and some background history. betty and veronica live in the same building, i thought it would be cool if they were neighbors just like b/a in canon. also, yes, archie has finally seen veronica! hope you like this little moment (happy valentine's day!). they will actually meet soon.
> 
> special thanks to [naomi](http://vaarchie.tumblr.com/), who read a part earlier and reassured me of something. make sure you read her fic [devotion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13510047/chapters/30985707), which is the absolute best. also thanks to [gia](http://kinselllas.tumblr.com) who is reading this fic even though she's a barchie shipper, and helping me with the whole midwest vibe. thanks girls!
> 
> i want to keep answering your questions and theories in my tumblr, andsmile!
> 
> song at the beginning is [to the wonder](https://youtu.be/Wh94Q8PIWoc), by aqualung (i like how it begins low and rises, just like archie’s heart in this chapter) and of course, [city of blinding lights](https://youtu.be/-LHPRbEAxy4) by u2!


	4. Chapter 4

_i_ _can’t explain any of the thoughts racing through my brain_  

 

 

 

 

It’s raining when the car rolls in front of the Pembrooke. When Veronica was a little girl, she thought her mood had some bizarre power over the weather, but after growing up, she’s sure of it. She takes a deep breath before opening the door. The library’s receptionist sure wouldn’t forget to deliver those papers to a guy named Forsythe, and they would be in Jughead’s hands sometime in the near future.  But still, she feels beat up, like she’s lost a battle. 

A battle. Not the war. 

At least the doorman is there with an umbrella to help her — her father would have him fired if he acted otherwise, obviously, but she smiles anyway. 

“Thanks, Smithers,” she says when he gets her inside the building. The elevator doors are closing, and she runs a little bit so that she doesn’t miss it. “Wait, wait, wait!” 

The person in the elevator holds its door before it closes, and when Veronica rushes inside, she’s even more certain that there’s a complot in the skies against her — of course. The minute she started thinking too much about Jughead Jones, she would be trapped with Betty Cooper, in a small, closed space. 

“Veronica,” Betty says, and she looks as taken aback as Veronica feels, standing in one of the corners. Veronica goes to the opposite one, crossing her arms in front of her body. 

Betty’s voice is so smooth, her scent so familiar — a vanilla scrub she’s been using since they were thirteen and had permission to go to the mall without an adult’s supervision; they’d get crazy inside a Lush store. Cheryl would try a different one every two weeks, always getting bored of the smells she tried, whereas Betty was loyal and faithful to that sweet one. 

Veronica feels her eyes prickle — she wants to hug her, feel that scent from up-close. 

“Hi,” she answers, avoiding eye contact, pressing the buttons so the elevator starts moving. 03 for Betty, PH for her. Part of her wanted it to be a longer ride, but another part is glad the trip is short and soon to be over. 

“How was your summer?” Betty asks in a low tune, all politeness, and soft edges. Veronica stares at her own feet. 

“Good. Switzerland.” She smiles a little, trying not to look directly at Betty’s face. “The St. Clairs launched a new hotel, and I was there with Cheryl.” 

“ _Cheryl,_ ” Betty says begrudgingly, also crossing her arms in front of her chest. It’s been more than a year, but it’s still so hard to witness the space between them. Veronica chews the inside of her lower lip, and there’s a beat of silence before Betty asks, very carefully, “Reggie couldn’t want to go?” 

It hits her that Betty has probably seen all of Reggie’s social media, the parties and the girls since he couldn’t stay one fucking minute without posting something to (probably, or hopefully? She’s not really sure) rub it in her face, so there’s no need to hide the facts. Reggie was her boyfriend for two years until this summer, and people were not used to seeing them apart, especially Betty, who was backstage, watching it all unfold. 

“We broke up,” she says as the elevator reaches the second floor. Betty opens her mouth — not surprised, of course, she knew already, but there’s something about her expression that makes Veronica feel her eyes warm and tingly again. “Before I went.” 

“Oh, V…” 

“I’m okay,” she breathes in and smiles – she didn’t want to look weak, not even to her best friend. Well. Former best friend. The elevator beeps announcing its arrival on the third floor, and the doors slide open to the Cooper’s lobby. “Good night, Betty.” 

She can see that Betty almost shrugs as her shoulders contract, and she knows what she’s probably thinking — _at least I’m trying_. She smiles sadly at her as she goes out the elevator, throwing a last glance. “Good night, Veronica.” 

Veronica stares at Betty’s blonde ponytail while she unlocks her apartment’s door. There’s a part of her that wants to stop the elevator’s doors from closing, and say  _c’mon, let’s go upstairs and I’ll tell you everything. Do you know how much I love you?_ but it still hurts, even after all this time. 

And it’s true — she still loves Betty so much. The problem is that she can’t trust Betty anymore, not even in Reggie related issues, no matter how much she wants to.  

The elevator keeps going up and Veronica exhales, letting her eyes tear up for a minute — this encounter was just another sign, another thing to keep her on the right track. Maybe Jughead doesn’t deserve it, but she will help that stupid boy even if it’s the last thing she does — she will do it for Betty. 

 

 

 

 

Archie is sitting by his window with his guitar — it’s early in the morning, the road beneath him wet from the rain that fell all through the night, and, truly a miracle, the television is turned off, even though Jeffrey is already awake — he can hear him and his mother talking in quiet voices in the kitchen. 

He softly strums chords on his guitar, a melody forming itself between his fingers. For the longest time he sang about the mess inside of him, as he struggled with not disappointing his father for giving up working in the business with him to study music; about getting lost in someone else’s skin for the first time.  

But right now, there’s only one thing on his mind: that girl in Betty’s building and how she shifted something in the air around him like she was defying gravity. 

He sings in a low voice, careful not to disturb the loft’s rare peace,  _“All of my life, where have you been? I wonder if I’ll ever see you again…”_

A knock on his door makes him stop, and his mom walks in, wearing lounge clothes since it’s Saturday. She’s also holding two coffee mugs. “Good morning, honey.” 

“Morning, mom.” He grins, setting his guitar down. She closes the door behind her, and Archie furrows his brows together, wondering if they’re about to have a serious conversation. He didn’t break any rules, though. He accepts the warm mug she gives him. “Thanks.” 

“So,” she sits on his unmade bed, “how did it go yesterday? With Kevin?” 

“Okay, I guess.” He sips his coffee. It has more milk and it’s sweeter than how he usually takes it, but surely his mom wouldn’t know. “We went to this diner. Kevin’s nice. I’ve met his friend, Betty Cooper, and she’s nice too. They’ve offered to help me with grades and stuff.” 

“I’m glad, sweetheart, I know that being around friends will help you through this,” she pauses to drink her coffee, and Archie expects that the true subject of this talk will come up next. “Listen, I’ve discussed something with your father.” 

 _Here it goes_. They’ve been discussing a lot, lately. Archie feels a bitter taste in his mouth that has nothing to do with coffee — if only they had been so communicative before the divorce. He has heard those words more than once, and, last time, they were followed by  _and we both agreed it will be good for you if you move to Chicago with me_. 

“And we both agreed it will be good for you if you start going to therapy.” 

Archie’s mouth hangs open, and his voice has a higher pitch when he speaks again, “What?! What the hell is this about?!” 

Mary remains very calm. “Archie, you are going through a difficult phase right now, and it’s alright to feel scared.” 

“I’m not going to a  _shrink_ , mom! I’m not insane!” 

“No one is saying you are, honey, but we think that it will be good for you to talk to someone about the things you can’t talk to us about.” 

He gets up, leaving the coffee mug on his nightstand, teeth grinding together. “Maybe I can’t talk to you because your mission in life is to ruin mine. Have you ever thought about that?” 

“Archie, your father and I…” 

“Stop saying this! Stop mentioning him! If he even cared about me he would be here to take me home and get me as far away from you as possible!” 

She gets up as well — her voice is firmer and louder when she speaks again, “I understand you’re angry, and I understand all of this is hard for you, but I will not tolerate this kind of disrespect. You have been abused…” 

“Oh, here we go again. How many times do I have to tell you that  _I wanted_ to be with Geraldine? It’s just another thing you ruin–” 

“You keep quiet and listen to me, kid.” Mary points a finger at him, and her glare is so ferocious, Archie reacts physically to it, taking a step back. It’s disconcerting to witness how her ears and cheeks get red in the same spots as Archie’s whenever they feel their blood boiling. “Your inability to understand that what that woman did to you was  _wrong_ is just further proof that you need professional help. You can hate me all you want now, but you will thank me later.” 

Archie crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I am not doing this,” he says, stubbornly. 

“Yes, you are. Your first appointment is on Monday. End of discussion.” She turns around and leaves the room, slamming the door on her way out. Archie stands where he is for a moment, hearing her shoes cackling towards the kitchen as Jeffrey says something like  _he’ll come around, sweetheart_ , and Archie’s eyes prickle with tears, any happiness and inspiration he’d acquired the day before dissipating inside of him. 

 _Great_ , he thinks, throwing himself on the bed, _just great._  

 

 

 

 

It’s the Jazz Festival opening weekend, which means Lodge Industries will join the mayor for the Philharmonic concert in Millennium Park, and Veronica’s parents will be out the whole day dealing with sponsors and attending cocktails.  

But she plans to spend the entirety of Saturday in her bed. Early in the morning, her dad knocks on her door to announce he is on his way out for a jog by the lake shore and asks if she wants to join him, but she says she’s still sleeping off her jet-lag. He looks like he wants to ask her something but leaves it at that.  

Her mother comes a couple of hours later, wearing a silk robe, and she lays beside Veronica and touches her hair while making pointed questions about her (fake) meeting with Reggie. Veronica answers them with a whole lot of new lies. Before leaving, Hermione gives her a kiss on the forehead and says that they can  _handle the matter_ for her if she wanted to. This startles Veronica a little, who imagines Reggie being followed by a hitman or something, and says she’ll handle everything herself. 

The air conditioning is on, so she can stay cozy under the duvet. The day outside looks white and bright, probably warm although it rained during the whole night. She’s not particularly hungry, only snacking on dates and dried apricots while she finishes up the Albert Cohen novel she bought back in Geneva. Veronica’s throat started aching the minute Betty left the elevator, yesterday, and it didn’t stop yet. It could just be the jet-lag — but she still feels beat up. 

Around five in the afternoon, she decides to get up and take a shower – the hot water does make her feel a little bit better. She’s in a towel when she decides to finally check her phone. Jughead hasn’t sent her any messages — he probably didn’t get the papers yet, but  _he will_ — and Reggie has posted about twenty selfies of himself in the gym’s mirror. 

Her group-chat with her girl friends is full of new messages, but she doesn’t bother checking them because Cheryl has already explained everything in their own chat — they were planning to meet at the fest, maybe watch the six o’clock concert, and then possibly get lost in the wine garden. Veronica plans on telling Cheryl that she doesn’t feel like going when she bursts through the door like a red whirlwind. 

Veronica almost drops her towel in the shock. “Oh, my God. Do you wanna give me a heart attack?” 

“Good, you showered,” Cheryl ignores her — of course — and starts moving around her bedroom, connecting her phone to the Bluetooth speaker so she can put on a pop playlist. “Come on, if we need to listen to  _jazz_ at least we can listen to some proper music before. What are you going to wear?” 

Veronica sits on the edge of her still unmade bed, watching her friend get lost in her walk-in closet. Cheryl is already dressed up — she’s wearing high-waisted denim shorts and a red bustier top with a black sheer cardigan that has an intricate lace pattern on its sleeves. Holding the edges of the towel, Veronica takes a deep breath and says what she was planning to, “I don’t want to go.”

“Yes, I was thinking maybe this black skirt with that cute velvet body you bought in Zurich — is it clean? Oh, yes, I found it.”

“Cher, I don’t—” 

“You can wear this belt _and_ this scarf. There’s no such thing as too many accessories.” 

“ _Cheryl_ ,” Veronica says a little firmer, louder. Cheryl stops fumbling around and looks at Veronica, all edge, and immaculate skin. She thinks of Betty’s worried green eyes when they talked yesterday — she misses having a friend who would actually listen to her.  _Well_ , she thinks,  _look at where that took us._ “I don’t want to go.” 

“So you said,” she comes back to the room, carrying the outfit she was describing before, and a pair of high-heeled ankle boots, “but I chose to ignore you. Of course, you’re going. You can’t come back and hide.” 

“I just don’t feel good, that’s all. I’m not hiding.” 

Cheryl lays the outfit down on the bed — it doesn’t make her feel any better, even though it looks great, the black mini skirt paired with a camel tone velvety body, a belt with a big silver buckle, and a black and white scarf. Cheryl always had a good eye for dressing people up. She also draws very well. Veronica knows she will be the best fashion designer ever, one day. 

“V,” her friend’s voice is softer now. She sits by Veronica's side and touches her bare shoulder carefully, making patterns on her skin with her manicured nail. “Yes, you are hiding. You were hiding before too, in Switzerland, and I thought  _you know what, that’s okay. She can take some time off_ — but you can’t do it anymore. I know what happened between you and Reggie hurt you, but it’s not  _fair_ that he gets to sleep his way through the alphabet while you stay home.” 

Veronica inhales. She wishes she could tell Cheryl that  _yes_ , she’s hurt because of Reggie, but it’s also so much more. It’s Betty. It’s stupid Jughead and his stupid life. And most of all, it’s Hiram and Hermione, pretending they’re the perfect parents and the perfect businessmen, big supporters of the city, when in fact they could actually be the core of all its problems. She’s learned her lesson, after what happened with Betty — she would never tell her friends anything about her parents again — but it’s a really lonely position to withstand. 

She exhales after what feels like a whole minute. “I don’t want to bump into him,” she half-lies. Again. 

Cheryl’s hand has found its way to the back of her neck, which is exposed since her hair is up in a bun, and Veronica closes her eyes to the gentle touch. “School starts in a week, sweetie. You can’t avoid him forever. And who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone else tonight, which definitely won’t happen if you stay home reading French porn.” 

Veronica laughs a little in spite of herself, leaning to lay on Cheryl’s shoulder for a bit, welcoming the proximity. “It’s not porn.” 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” she says, playfully, swinging an arm around Veronica’s torso, and lays her cheek on the top of her head. Her voice is a few tones lower when she speaks again, “I love you, you know that?” 

“Love you too, Cher.” 

She feels Cheryl soft smile against her hair. There are some seconds of quietness before Cheryl starts moving again, unable to stay still for too long. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed.” 

 

 

 

 

Archie purposely spends the whole day inside his bedroom, only going out to use the bathroom. His mother is at home the whole morning (she doesn’t check on him again, though) and only leaves after lunch when a client calls. Jeffrey knocks on his door a few minutes after she goes, bringing him a food plate, and Archie decides to ignore him completely, focusing crossly at his laptop screen. 

He eats — as he must, at some point — but he hates to be human and to have basic needs that are still provided by his  _parents_ , with whom Archie’s still impossibly angry. He can’t believe that, about a month ago, he was lying on a blanket by Sweetwater River, drinking white wine, basking under the sun with the woman he liked by his side. They had plans to leave the city together after Archie’s graduation.  

And now he has to act like a kid again because his mother (and father. And fucking Jeffrey.) treat him like one — and what is even worse, a broken kid who they think is  _scared_ and needs  _therapy_ , for God’s sake. 

Archie is still lying in the same position — shirtless, the laptop warm over his belly, headphones on his ears — trying to find a good action flick on Netflix, when Jeffrey knocks on his door again. The surprise is that, when the door opens, it’s not Jeffrey, but Kevin Keller, who looks around curiously as he lets himself in. 

“Kevin?” Archie takes off one of his earbuds, brows furrowed together. “Wha—” 

“Your stepdad let me in.” Kevin, who is a little dressed up and carrying a leather jacket, makes a face when he sees the empty plate on the desk, and the mess only someone who stayed in the whole day could make. “It smells in here. Can I open a window?” 

He’s already opening the window when he asks. Archie props himself up, setting his laptop down and sitting on the bed, still confused by the sudden visit. It’s windier and chiller outside than he thought it would be. 

“Do you think this fits you?” Kevin throws the leather jacket on him. “Let’s see what you have in here.” He opens Archie’s wardrobe, which is at least a little tidier than the rest of the room. 

“What are you doing?” Archie looks at the jacket as if it came from another planet while Kevin looks at his clothes as if  _they_ came from another planet. 

“You’re going to be my date tonight at the Jazz Festival, and my mission is to make you look good for it.” 

“I’m going to—  _what?_ ” 

“I know you’re straight as a ruler, don’t worry. Hmmm,” Kevin finds a shirt that he likes, Archie supposes, because he takes it out to examine it better, “I need a redhead hunk beside me, so I can make the guy that I actually wantedas my date jealous. You just so happen to fit the profile.” 

The only thing Archie can think is that nothing about this conversation makes sense, so he just stares at Kevin, mystified. 

“This guy — his name is Moose, but I would describe a certain appendage of his as horse-like,” Archie lets his jaw drop, but Kevin is not looking at him, “—has a girlfriend, Midge. She’s cute and all, but I’m pretty sure she’s not who he wanted to be his date, as well.” 

“You want to take  _me_ to a Jazz Festival to be your fake date, so you can make a guy who has a girlfriend jealous?” 

“Oh, look at you, catching up.” Kevin smiles. “That will have to do.” He looks at the shirt he’s been holding. “Okay, you don’t have to worry about your reputation — I won’t say you’re my  _date_ , but Moose will be tickled when he sees a cute guy beside me. I’ll pay for your food and beverages, since you’ll help me out, and the Jazz Festival is actually pretty cool. I see you like music,” he nods towards the guitar, who in the exact same place he left it this morning. “Is that your thing?” 

“Yeah,” Archie tries to snap out of his confusion, “I… I’ve been writing some songs here and there.” 

“That’s nice.” Kevin starts looking for pants. “You can join the music group for extracurriculars. There are a lot of talented kids in school.” 

Archie smiles a little, maybe for the first time in the whole day, but it fades fast — he doesn’t want to disappoint Kevin, but he’s not sure he should be going out, especially after the fight this morning. His mother didn’t  _ground_ him (at least), but even so… “I’m not sure I’m in the mood to go out, though, Kev.” 

“Oh, my God, enough of this already.” Kevin finds his nicest pair of jeans and throws it on his lap, a little more forcefully than he’d expect. “Betty is already sulking because of Jughead, and I won’t have you sulking because of… Who is she?” 

“My mom,” he says, between a sigh and a laugh. 

“That’s a deep-seated issue.” Kevin laughs too. “Go, take a shower, and put these on. You’ll look like a daydream, and who knows, maybe if Moose breaks up with Midge you can be there to pick up her pieces.” 

Archie eventually gets up and drags himself to the shower, wondering how the hell this all happened to his once still life — but he smiles anyway. Being forced to go to a big music festival in a big city was better than being forced to go to fucking therapy. 

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, i’m so sorry for the delay. i had crazy busy days, but here is chapter four. i’m sorry there’s no varchie interaction, but at least they are going to the same place, and looking good? lol i know you all want them to meet, but i’m still setting the ground here, explaining the relationships and everything – it’s a long run.
> 
> so in this chapter you have veronica interacting with two important people for her storyline – betty, who used to be her best friend and cheryl, who is her best friend now. i promised you i would deal with archie’s PG (post-grundy) situation and i am 100% doing it, so that’s why his parents will make him go to therapy. i love his interactions with mary, it’s an interesting relationship to me. also, kevin <3
> 
> the chicago jazz festival normally happens on labor day weekend, but for fanfiction purposes, it starts earlier here. not that anyone cares – maybe i have some readers who are from chicago, i don’t know lol. thank you **so much** for the unbelievable response, and i hope to engage with you on my tumblr, andsmile!
> 
> the song archie writes about his encounter with ronnie is actually [again](https://youtu.be/6UxCyysOPMw) by lenny kravitz (love this song so much), and song at the beginning is [howlin’ for you](https://youtu.be/bSCsoQ87MQ8) by the black keys (the instrumental makes me think of the chapter).


	5. Chapter 5

_saw you standing across the room  
(i’ll find my way to your heart)_

 

 

 

The Uber drives them down the N Lake Shore Drive — all because Jason couldn’t give them a ride since he was already taking his girlfriend (Betty’s sister, Polly) and a bunch of her friends too. Cheryl has been pouting since they texted, back in the penthouse, and Veronica has been rolling her eyes every time she hears her friend saying little things here and there that showed her discontentment with the car arrangements, like _you would think that being his twin would mean a little more, but no big deal_.

“But being his girlfriend gives her car ride rights,” Veronica says only to stir the fire a little bit, a smile on her lips. Polly was about two years older than them; she and Jason had been dating since forever. It was something Cheryl had never agreed on, not even when they were friends with Betty. When high school was over for Polly, everybody thought she would move far away to some Ivy League university and leave Jason behind, but she chose to stay in the city and attend the University of Chicago, making Cheryl perpetually unhappy (well, maybe not unhappier than Alice Cooper).

“We shared a womb.” Cheryl sounds outraged, and Veronica chuckles, wondering how Jason will react when Cheryl finds a boyfriend for herself – she’s never had one, not serious enough to take to a Blossom family dinner, at least.

“I think at this point he and Polly share a lot m— _okay, okay_ .” Cheryl pokes the side of her body, right beneath her ribs, and it tickles, making her laugh out loud — maybe for the first time since they returned from Switzerland. Veronica feels a little thankful for Cheryl’s existence for a moment — it’s good to be heading somewhere so the music can quiet her thoughts. Also, it’s not her biggest problem, but if she _does_ happen to bump into Reggie, at least she’ll be looking good.

Cheryl is not a girl who laughs so much — she throws flirty smiles and kinks her eyebrows a lot — so it’s refreshing to see her beam when her eyes catch Veronica’s.

 

 

 

 

The road is packed with cars once they get closer to Millennium Park, so they get down a block early and walk with their arms linked together. The girls are waiting for them at the lateral entrance, smiling when they see them both — it’s the first time, since summer started, that they get to hang out together.

“Oh, my God, V! Cheryl!” Melody comes to hug her, followed by Valerie, Ginger, and Tina.

“Hey! I’ve missed you, girls. Is Josie already inside?”

“Yeah, she’s backstage with her parents. She said she’s got a great spot for us.” Valerie throws an arm around Veronica’s shoulder, pressing her to the side of her body. Besides Cheryl, and after what went down with Betty, Valerie became one of Veronica’s closest friends. “How are you, love? Did Cheryl take care of you on the trip?”

“Obviously.” Cheryl rolls her eyes, a little annoyed.

“I can’t believe Reggie did that to you, V,” Ginger says sympathetically, and Valerie hugs her a little tighter as the other girls agree, “and now he’s acting like this total jerk.”

Veronica throws them a sad smile – they all thought Reggie was the one who ended things with her because that was just another lie she told Cheryl so the truth wouldn’t spread. Telling the truth would only make them ask for explanations. Maybe it wasn’t fair to Reggie, saying that he broke her heart when in fact she had broken his ( _and hers_ , in the process) but Veronica didn’t need fairness right now. She needed simplicity. She needed them to think what was easier for them to accept.

“Do you think he’s coming tonight?” It’s Tina who asks.

Veronica doesn’t have the time to answer or to even think about an answer, because Cheryl grabs her by the arm and releases her from Valerie’s embrace, pulling her to her side, entangling their arms together again. “Oh, my God, enough about Reggie already. If he shows up, we’ll just impale him with our heels. C’mon, let’s find Josie.”

 _It’s okay_ , Veronica tells herself as she walks into the park with her friends. _You can worry tomorrow._ This night was going to be a good one.

 

 

 

 

“So, Betty _might_ be able to escape her warden and join us later,” Kevin says, putting his phone back in his pocket, “but so far it’s just you and me.”

Archie nods, only half-listening to him, mesmerized by the place surrounding him. He has never been to a music festival before — only carnivals and fairs in Riverdale and the occasional gig in Greendale — and to witness something like  _this_ is completely overwhelming but in a good way.

He has been to Millennium Park with his mother once, a couple of years ago, but they hadn’t been to  _this_ part of the park — Kevin said it was called the Jay Pritzker Pavilion — a bandshell that looked a little like a lotus flower or a spaceship, made of silvery metal and reflecting colorful lights. Fred Andrews has worked with construction all his life, and Archie couldn’t even imagine how excited he would be to see something so  _different_ from everything else.

On the field facing the stage, there's  _a lot_ of people, some standing, some sitting on beach chairs, and some sitting on the ground over blankets. They are talking, laughing, or quietly enjoying the music with their eyes closed. The acoustic of the place is something incredible. The band that is playing is far from them, and yet the sound seems to reverberate on the metal leaves surrounding the stage — and Archie can hear them perfectly, tunes and notes and every saxophone high.

“Kev, this is awesome!” Archie says, probably smiling like a kid in a candy shop, completely enthralled by the lights and sounds around him. He’s also somewhat glad that Kevin dressed him up a little since everybody walking around is looking good. “Who’s playing?”

“Oh, actually, these are The McCoys.” Kevin starts walking, trying to find a good spot in the grass. “Josie, their daughter, goes to school with us. She’s in the music group I told you about. She’s  _really_ talented.”

“I bet.” Archie glances up at the stage and sees the four-people band who are apparently led by a black couple — the woman is playing the violin and the man is on the saxophone. “Is she here? Are we going to meet her?”

“She’s probably around somewhere with Cheryl Blossom’s entourage.” Kevin seems satisfied with where they stand and takes a blanket out from the bag he’s been carrying. “I’m sure we will bump into them at some point, but we don’t like her.”

A girl with an entourage. Archie smiles faintly — there was a  _girl with an entourage_ in Riverdale High, a  _Queen Bee_ , the other girls used to call her. They went on a few dates in sophomore year when Archie made the basketball team, before Geraldine, before everything. She was much softer than she had seemed, as normally all these girls were. “Why not? She can’t be that bad.”

“Josie is… okay-ish, I guess, but Cheryl…” Kevin sits down on the blanket, prompting Archie to sit next to him. There are more things in his bag, and one of them, Archie notices, is boxed red wine. “She’s one of the only people in school that still kind of bullies me for being gay. I thought we were past that, you know. 21st century.”

“Oh,” Archie takes the plastic glass Kevin filled with wine, “sorry, man. That sucks.”

“Well, you can’t please everyone.” Kevin shrugs and bumps Archie’s glass with his own in a toast. Archie doesn’t drink much, only the occasional beer and badly-mixed cocktails at parties. The wine Kevin bought is cheap and dry, but the atmosphere makes it taste a hundred times better. He closes his eyes, so he can absorb the music. He stays like that until Kevin starts talking again, but this time his voice is filled with anxiety. “Okay, Moose and Midge are here. Remember, you just need to look good.”

Archie has no idea of what he can do to  _look good_ to an apparently closeted bisexual guy and his unaware girlfriend, so he just chugs the rest of the wine in his glass and ruffles his hair a little bit, getting up as soon as Kevin does. There is a couple walking towards them — a tall, strong-built guy holding hands with a cute, short-haired girl wearing tight jeans — and Archie immediately feels bad when he sees the girl’s big smile and remembers that her boyfriend is probably cheating on her with another guy. It’s disconcerting, and he thinks he needs to drink a little more to face these facts.

“Oh, man, they brought Reggie,” Kevin says, grinding his teeth together in a fake-smile as he waves to the couple, and Archie notices another guy with them, wearing a leather jacket not so different from the one Kevin lent him, also tall and good-looking, definitely of Asian descent. “We need more wine.”

“I got it,” Archie agrees immediately, and gets down so he can refill their glasses. When he’s done, the other three have finally reached them, and the girl, Midge, lets go of her boyfriend’s hand so she can throw her arms around Kevin.

“Hey, you! Haven’t seen you all summer,” she says, and Archie slowly drinks the wine in his glass, observing the scene and pretending not to notice that Moose is looking straight at him with his jaw clenched. “What have you been up to?”

She tilts her head towards Archie slightly, a grin on her face, and Kevin touches his shoulder. “This is Archie. Archie, this is Midge, her _boyfriend_ ,” the word lingers on Kevin’s tongue for a split-second, “Moose, and this is Reggie Mantle. Archie will be attending our school this year, and I happen to be his neighbor.”

“Nice to meet you,” Archie says, shaking hands with Midge and then Moose, whose handshake is a little firmer than needed. However crazy Kevin’s plans were, they seem to be working — the guy definitely doesn't like his presence around Kevin.

Reggie Mantle, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind or acknowledge Archie at all, looking around nervously with his hands in his pockets, and when he speaks, he sounds very annoyed. “Can we go to the wine garden now that you said hello to your boyfriend?”

Archie is unsure of whom he’s talking to or about but it's Midge who answers, practically rolling her eyes, “Gee, chill. She’s not going to be there until The McCoy’s are finished. Besides,  _she dumped you_. Why the hell do you want to bump into her anyway?”

“She didn’t  _dump_ me. We just broke up, and this is not why I want to go.”

Archie looks at Kevin, seeking for some eye-contact or guidance on what to do during this awkward moment. Kevin, though, is staring at Moose with an eyebrow up, and Moose is just staring right back with narrowed eyes. So, Archie just takes a deep breath and resumes drinking his wine, feeling completely left out amongst all the drama.

“Ok, Reggie, I will take you there, just so you stop crying,” Midge says eventually, tiptoeing to kiss her boyfriend on the cheek. “Be right back, sweetie. You boys be good.”

She leaves with the other guy, who still hasn’t thrown Archie a second glance, and he’s left with Kevin and Moose. He figured he’d be third-wheeling at some point in the evening, but maybe not so soon. He finishes up his drink and, hit by a wave of inspiration — or maybe by his growling stomach — he rests a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “Kev, I was thinking about getting something for us to eat.”

Kevin slowly turns his attention from Moose’s stare to Archie’s face, and Archie smiles pointedly. “Sure. The food trucks are on that w– You want me to go with you?”

“Nah,” he grips Kevin’s shoulder a little tighter, “you should stay here and save our spot. I’ll come back with some burgers. You want anything, Moose?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“I’ll be back.” He winks at Kevin, the alcohol encouraging him to be a little flirty — it was his mission of the night, anyways, to make that giant jealous.

 

 

 

 

“Ugh, I hate jazz.” Cheryl makes a face, sipping on the bottle of champagne Josie managed to steal for them, before going back to watch her parents from the backstage. “What’s the point of a song that you can’t dance to?”

“There’s literally a dance _style_ that’s called jazz, Cheryl,” Valerie says, laughing a little bit as she rolls a cigarette with skilled fingers. “Don’t even try — you won’t win this discussion.”

She lifts an eyebrow, red lips around the bottle, and the other girls laugh. Veronica chuckles too, leaning back with both her hands on the blanket and closing her eyes so she can feel the music echoing inside her body.

Cheryl could complain about it for the rest of her life — Veronica loves jazz. She loves how it starts already high and dry, like a gunshot, like something that shifts the atmosphere. She loves how _disorganized_ it can be, different from classical music, which is mostly mathematics. She loves the feral sound of the saxophone.

She was still a little girl with an itchy dress when her parents first brought her to the Jazz Festival. It was one of those events that mattered. She remembers coming with the Jones once when Jughead’s little sister was still a baby in his mother’s arms, and she eventually stopped crying to the sound of the piano. She remembers how Betty would always tag along, even when no one else wanted to, and they would eat popsicles and talk about their future as the music played in the background, how they would be roommates in college, how Betty would get far, far away from her parents as soon as possible.

Last year, with Betty out of the picture, Veronica laid in Reggie’s embrace, over this very same grass. And while he was more interested in making out and smoking weed than in listening to the music, he did keep quiet for five minutes during a song — she couldn’t remember which one, but still, it was one of the nicest moments in their relationship.

Veronica misses him. Of course, she does. But he wanted things from her that she couldn’t give, that she could never find inside herself, and focusing on figuring  _that_ out would only make her divert from what was really important: her parents and what they were possibly doing with their (and hers) fucking lives.

She takes a deep breath, sitting up straighter — as much as she tells herself not to worry, there she is,  _worrying_. It’s like her head can’t keep quiet for one second, not even in her favorite time and space. She opens her eyes, looking around — the girls have changed the subject, trying to figure out if they’re going to the wine garden or if they should just skip the tradition and find another place to go (they’re voting on a gay bar, and Cheryl is the only one disagreeing). Veronica reaches for the champagne bottle, taking a sip. It’s mild, but it’s still Don Perignon.

She feels a little dizzy, suddenly — and then she remembers that she hasn’t eaten all day. There are potato chips next to Melody, and she grabs some just to tide herself over. Though, she figures she should get up and buy something more substantial, even at the risk of bumping into Reggie if she starts walking around.

“I’m going to grab a bite,” she tells Cheryl, who is sitting next to her. “Do you want something?”

“Friiiiies,” Ginger announces, making Veronica smile. The other girls agree, and Cheryl just shakes her head.

“Don’t take too long.” She looks down at her phone, taking the bottle again. “We’ll be out of here soon. we just need to figure out  _where_.”

“We are going to the Sidetrack. It’s decided,” Valerie says. Veronica leaves before she can hear Cheryl’s protests about that place being _tragic._

 

 

 

 

She walks carefully between blankets and beach chairs — she’s lucky her heels are thicker and are not digging into the grass. The food trucks are a new addition to the fest, but Veronica already has a favorite — the one that sells burgers, fries, and shakes in old-American fashion. The truck is a little retro, adorned with neon lights, and, _of course_ , its line is bigger than the others.

Veronica looks around, examines the people standing in line, and there’s no sight of Reggie anywhere. If he is here, he’s probably at the wine garden, so she needs to remember to vote against going there when she goes back to the girls.

She checks her phone while waiting for her turn to pay and order, and the only new message is from her mother, asking if she was okay. She types  ** _yeah, girls are planning a night out, won’t be home until late_** , and presses send. She shifts to her conversation with Jughead, and she knows he didn’t send anything new. But still, she stares at her last text to him with her heart at the base of her throat.

She wonders if he could come to the festival — he used to like it. She wonders if he brought Betty as his date; if that’s still _almost-_ happening like it always had been. Veronica feels a little bad for knowing that if Jughead and Betty ever went out on a date, he wouldn’t be able to afford any place nice. But Betty wouldn’t mind, she’d be happy with food from this food truck. She'd be happy with even less.

When her turn arrives, it takes her some seconds to come back to Earth. “Hi. A cheeseburger with salad, fries on the side, and a bottle of water, please.”

The cashier tells her the price and asks for her name. She says _Lodge_ , wonders if she’ll be able to use this last name proudly for the rest of her life, and asks if they can give her the water first.

She waits in the designated area for them to call her name, and the plastic bottle is on its way to her mouth when she glances to the line, probably scared that Reggie is there, wearing a leather jacket (she knows he’s wearing one — he posted it on Instagram) and watching her, when she finds that there is someone — a boy, in a jacket — watching her. But it’s definitely not Reggie, it’s no one she’s seen before.

He glances away when their eyes meet, and she can see that faint red spots have appeared on his cheekbones and that he smiles to himself. Something — maybe the champagne, maybe because the guy is about her age and actually  _really_ handsome, red hair ruffled and strong jawline, maybe the fact that he is  _blushing_ — gets her blood buzzing, and her face is hot too.

She bites the inside of her lower lip, the corners of her mouth up, but when he looks at her again and catches her gaze, she has to drink some water so that she doesn’t smile too much as she looks away.

There are only a few feet between them. He has his hands shoved in his pockets when he says, “Hi.”

Her breath hitches, and she can’t understand why. So she just stares at the food truck, at the neon lights, very much aware that he is staring at her when she answers, “Hi.”

“How are the onion rings here?”

She turns her face and body a little towards him — it’s his time to stare ahead and pretend he wasn’t looking. “They’re really good,” she catches herself answering.

It’s the boy's turn in the line. Veronica looks around to realize that there are a lot of people still waiting for their orders — service was a little slow. The redhead orders a huge amount of food, finishing the sentence with _and some onion rings, please_. His accent is different, from somewhere in the east. He’s probably just a tourist that came to the festival.

He pays for his order, says _Andrews_ when the cashier asks for his name. She takes a step to the left as if to give space on her side if he’d like to wait next to her, and wonders what the hell she is doing.

He does stand next to her once he’s done paying, and even with burgers frying, she can smell his perfume — and  _damn_ , he smells good. Their arms are a few inches away from each other, and her legs feel jittery. She drinks more water, only to have something to do with her mouth that doesn’t involve  _talking_ , and he takes it as a cue.

“This song is amazing, really,” he says, and Veronica remembers where she is and that there’s someone playing a song somewhere. She pays attention to it — she can hear it faintly, now that she’s far from the stage, and frowns a little when she recognizes it because it’s her favorite jazz song.

“It’s Stardust,” she breathes, “John Coltrane.”

“It’s beautiful,” he says. She can see him smiling with the corner of his mouth. He keeps shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hands still shoved in his pockets, and somehow his body movement makes their arms brush for a second.

Veronica takes a deep breath. She’s not used to…  _This_. She can’t even give it a name. She hasn’t done it in over two years, not after Reggie, not  _for real_ , not when she’s not trying to manipulate someone into doing something for her. There’s a part of her that wants to say something, to ask him something, but—

He makes a sound between a breath and a laugh, and Veronica can’t suppress her smile. “What are you laughing at?”

“It’s just… Chicago is a big ass city,” he scratches the back of his head, all boyish shyness, “but somehow I feel like I’m still in my small hometown because I keep bumping into the same people and everyone knows everyone.”

“Bumping into people?”

“You,” his cheeks gain a new shade of red, “I saw you yesterday. I was walking a friend home, and I saw you. It was raining. You got into the same building.”

“Oh,” it’s all Veronica can say, a little surprised by the chance, and even more that she didn’t notice him as well. To be fair, yesterday had been a mess, arriving from Switzerland and meeting with Jughead and running into Bet— “Who were you with, again?”

“This girl,” he says, and she just _knows_ what name is coming right after that, “Betty Cooper. Do you know her?”

Veronica hadn’t realized how quiet her head was until that moment, but now it’s like everything that comes with Betty is coming back to her mind, all at once. The fluttering sensation in her stomach becomes something different, something painful. “Yeah,” she answers, and it tastes bitter in her mouth, how much she knows Betty, how much she  _doesn’t_ know Betty anymore, “we go to the same school.”

(It is the only truth about them, nowadays.)

The guy who was in front of Veronica in the line gets called up, which means her order is the next one. She’s still trying to swallow around the lump in her throat when the redhead touches her arm — just above her elbow, just fingertips — and a jolt of electricity runs through her body. She automatically (but gently, _thank God_ ) pulls away, looking at him, a little startled.

“Lodge!” someone in the truck calls. In her peripheral vision, she can see her order on the counter, but it’s not enough to make her take her eyes off the boy’s face. He seems a little disconcerted too — maybe he has felt the same.

“I’m Archie,” he says, swallowing. And for a second, she thinks he’ll shake hands with her or something, but he stands still, hand hovering around the arm he touched. “Andrews.”

The guy in the truck calls her again. She bites her bottom lip, and she wants to let a little quiver run through her when she notices his eyes follow the movement of her mouth. But then there’s Betty and the fact that he doesn’t deserve to be caught in a crossfire, especially if they’re all going to be in school together. “And I’m leaving,” she says, running a hand through her hair before turning around to get her order from the counter.

She does look back once she’s done, and he’s still staring at her, a little flabbergasted, his brows and mouth twisted somewhere between a frown and a smile. She can’t help but smile over her shoulder for the slightest second. “It was nice to meet you, Archie Andrews.”

When she walks away, the song playing is a completely different one.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking a little while again – work has kicked my ass this week. but the moment you anticipated is here – archie and veronica finally met! uhul! i tried to recreate a little of their iconic™ first meeting, i hope i did them justice. poor veronica has a lot in her mind right now (YES, I KNOW, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED WITH B&V?) but have patience and good things will come your way. this chapter is bigger than the others, almost 5K words!
> 
> there’s (hopefully) only another chapter before they go to school (there’s going to be a little time jump) but i’m glad we’re taking this slow, because there’s too much new information to share and i need you to drink all slowly. all i can always say is that the response for this fic has been amazing to me, and i love to talk with you about it, so keep interacting with me in my tumblr, @andsmile.
> 
> song at the beginning is [you and me](https://youtu.be/IgKXBDbNtwU) by ryan starr and is one of my #varchie anthems. the jazz song playing during their convo is my favorite jazz song, [stardust](https://youtu.be/KbFtzeOju3A) by john coltrane. love you guys.


	6. Chapter 6

_the fear has gripped me but here I go_

 

 

 

 _Lodge_ , the guy in the food truck had screamed. 

Lodge. 

Kevin’s Facebook profile didn’t give it away – something about his privacy settings only allowed Archie to see mutual friends, and since none of the people Archie met in the festival added him, this list still consisted only of Betty. Her profile also didn’t give much away – she shared a lot of kitten videos and Tastemade baking recipes, but he couldn’t find a Lodge in her friend's list, and there were no pictures of the raven-haired girl in her albums. 

He had this friend back in Riverdale, Dilton Doiyle, who could find anyone online if you gave him a name and a character trait. But Archie didn’t have many cyber-stalking skills – he didn’t really know where else to look beside Facebook and Google, and the latter just showed him a lot of accommodations in the mountains.  

He could ask Kevin about her – they were all going to the same school, she lived in Betty’s building and Kevin did owe him a favor after he basically ditched him in the festival to do whatever with Moose (and Midge, really) somewhere – but somehow, lying on his bed in the middle of the night, still semi-drunk with cheap wine, Archie also just wanted to keep her to himself, a little secret that could be the start of something. 

Archie still can’t believe he saw her again, the answer to the piece of lyrics he’d been writing before – she was even more beautiful in the second fragment of memory, wearing that patterned scarf around her neck like she was a movie star from the fifties or something, but there were smaller things too, how her lipstick stained the water bottle’s plastic rim, their height difference when they stood next to each other, and how fuller her lower lip was in comparison to her upper lip. 

She answered his questions pointedly and didn’t look all that interested – why would she be, really? The girl was way out of his league – but the way she jolted when he touched her arm wasn’t something he imagined, and neither was the smile she threw him over her shoulder as she walked away afterward. 

He shifts under his sheets, the slight smile on his lips fading and giving place in his expression to a frown – he things he felt touching that girl’s arm, did he feel them before? He remembers being in the music classroom with Geraldine, a few weeks before everything went to hell, her fingertips against his palms and wrist as she whispered that she  _would_ leave everything behind to be with him, that she would fight for him, and his heart was pounding so fast and he was so sure of how much he wanted her, except she didn’t keep her promises – she stayed behind and allowed him to  _disappear_  from her life. 

He sighs – maybe it was better if he didn’t get to know the girl at all since he destroyed everything he touched. Still, unable to quiet his thoughts, Archie puts his headphones on and listens to Stardust by John Coltrane until he falls asleep. 

 

 

 

 

He wakes up in the morning to something buzzing, and a small headache pounding in his temples – he struggles with finding his phone, which was lost between the sheets, and scrunches his face against the daylight coming through the window when he tries to open his eyes to see who is calling. 

It’s his father. He contemplates not answering, but ends up pressing the green button and feeling a little warm inside when he hears his dad’s voice, “Hey, kiddo.” 

“Dad, hey.” 

“How’s everything? Is the city treating you well so far? Your mom said you made some friends.” 

Archie rolls over with his back against the mattress, stares at the ceiling. It’s so weird to hear Fred Andrews through a phone in a Sunday morning, instead of sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee while he made breakfast, making plans to walk Vegas around Sweetwater River in the late afternoon, or to binge watch Breaking Bad in the evening. It’s even weirder to know that Sundays like these aren’t happening again anytime soon, maybe never again. It leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Yeah. There’s a guy that lives next door, I’ve met some people from school, too,” he sighs, “There’s a music group that I can join for extracurriculars, one of the girls in it has these famous parents. They’re jazz players.” 

“That’s great, son. It’s important for you to focus on your studies and to have some friends that can help you through this transition.” 

His speech is so similar to Mary’s, and the way they both say  _transition_  makes Archie clench his jaw – however, he does know his father better, knows how to  _talk_ to him, how to open up, even though all this just happened because he couldn’t do it before, “Dad,” he tries, “I… You know I’ve done everything you and mom asked me to do, but this therapy thing…” 

He hears his father breathing on the other side of the line, “Archie, your mother and I both agree that you need some guidance that we can’t g–” 

“C’mon, dad,” he interrupts, his voice a little higher pitched like he was a kid again, “I already  _moved_ , Geraldine and I aren’t together anymore, I’m going to this new school without my friends, I’m all alone here and you still want me to do this like I’m a fucking lunatic or someth–” 

“No one thinks you’re a lunatic, son,” Fred goes on, as calm as he was before, and Archie swallows the words around the lump in his throat, his eyes suddenly irritated, “We love you so much, Archie, we want you to – this isn’t negotiable, I’m afraid. We’re getting through this together, okay? You, your mother, me.” 

The thought of the three of them – even if in a stupid phrase – makes his chest tighten because they couldn’t even get through  _being a family_  together. His father keeps talking about how things will get better, how he will find something to relay on and how he would feel better if he  _talked_ about things instead of keeping them to himself, and Archie stares at the ceiling and listens until his vision is blurred. 

“An advice, man to man? Some decisions we make define us for the rest of our lives,” Fred says at one point. Archie wants to say he isn’t making a single decision but just blinks, and a tear slides down his cheek. 

 

 

 

 

Monday comes, eventually. His mother has to work, so Jeffrey is the one that drives him to the appointment, but nothing about that surprises him. What does surprise him is how Jeffrey only smiles a little and says good morning, and then keeps quiet during the entire way, turning on the radio and tapping his fingers on the wheel to the rhythm of the soft music playing. The one time he does speak is when they pull over in front of the therapist’s office, and the whole thing makes Archie burrow his eyebrows together. 

“If you want to run away right now, my lips are sealed,” he winks at Archie, but something about his voice makes him sound serious, “Your mom will never know.” 

“Thanks, I guess,” Archie says, unsure of how to feel, “Uh – I’ll see you later?” 

“Just text me and I’ll come pick you up, buddy.” 

Despite his fantasies of rebellion, Archie does get inside the building and fills some consent forms, agreeing on the psychotherapy. Consent was a funny word, he thought while signing the papers – it baffled how hypocritical it could be. He was old enough to drive, he was old enough to make important career decisions and to allow some stranger to get inside his head, but he wasn’t old enough to be with the person he wanted to be. 

“Ms. Baker will see you now, Mr. Andrews,” the secretary announces after he’s seating in the waiting room for a while, and Archie follows her up some stairs to another room. 

It’s not white – is the first thing he notices as he looks around. In fact, it doesn’t look like a doctor’s office or anything. The walls are painted in a muted yellow shade, there was a fluffy fur rug on the floor, and a gray couch that looked very comfortable to sit in. On the opposite side of the couch, a yellow chair was placed under a large window, and a dark-skinned woman was sitting on it, wearing some kind of overall and a whole bunch of necklaces. 

“Mr. Andrews,” she smiles with beautiful white teeth, getting up to greet him, “Archie, yes? Nice to meet you, I’m Thea.” 

They shake hands briefly, and he feels his face warm up because his palms were a little sweaty. She points the couch for him to sit down, and he does – it really is as comfortable as it looks. Ms. Baker goes back to her yellow chair and crosses her legs as she looks at him with a faint smile on her lips, “Your mom told me you were dreading to meet me.” 

“I…” he starts, knowing that his cheeks and ears are the same color of his hair, “I mean, it’s the first time I ever go to a…” he wants to say  _shrink_ , but he’s unsure if this term isn’t a put down, “It’s the first time I go to therapy.” 

“Yeah, it’s a bit scary. You might be thinking that I have the power to throw you in the loony bin or to give you those pills that will make you question your life without them, right?” 

Archie’s lips turn up in a small, embarrassed smile, and he scratches the back of his head, “Well, do you?” 

Ms. Baker laughs, “No, sweetie. I’m not a doctor, just a psychotherapist, and I swear to you that this word has nothing to do with  _psychos_ as in Norman Bates, okay? We might bump into a couple of them occasionally, but mostly, I’m just dealing with people that are trying to figure out some stuff. Is that okay with you?” 

He bites the inside of his lower lip. He’s not even sure of  _what_ he was trying to figure out, even though his parents apparently knew – maybe that woman could help him figure out what to figure out? It all sounded very dumb, “I guess.”  

“You want to tell me why your parents think you need therapy?” 

Archie takes a deep breath, and his body feels heavier and heavier, sinking onto the couch, “They say I need to talk to someone about the things I can’t tell them.” 

“Are there many things you can’t tell them?” 

He shrugs, “Some stuff, I don’t know.” 

“And this…  _stuff_. Does it bother you? Do you wish you could tell them?” 

“It’s not that I  _can’t_ tell them,” Archie rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, hands fumbling together, “I can, but… They don’t understand. They don’t let me explain why I feel the things I feel, and they keep making decisions about my life, but it’s  _my life_ , you know? When will I have a say in what happens with it?” 

“Do you think you’re already able to have this sort of power?” 

Archie looks up at her, his brow creasing, “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I know I’m a minor and all, but I’m already seventeen. I might not be old enough to do a bunch of things but I am a person, I’m not a child that’s waiting to be fed, you know?” 

“I know,” Ms. Baker shifts her position on the chair, “I think we’re all children waiting to be fed, though, one way or another. We’re waiting for things to happen our way; we want things from others. In the end, it doesn’t matter our age, because we want what we want. It’s a human thing – wanting.” 

He nods slowly. Maybe that woman  _did_ know what she was doing, after all, because it’s the first time an adult – well, the second time, but he’s not sure if the first time counts, since they were mostly naked – listens to him as if he wasn’t just a spoiled brat. 

“So, I don’t know if you’re coming back next Monday, Archie, but I hope you do. And if you do, that’s the question I’d like you to answer – what do you want right now?” 

 

 

 

 

 _What do you want right now?_  

The question follows Archie all through the following week. He thinks about it before going to bed, when he wakes up, and when he’s sitting in his window pane, strumming chords on his guitar. The answer varies every time. 

He wants his mom to stop looking at him with sympathetic eyes like he was a broken toy that she desperately wants to fix. He wants to hug her, sometimes, just hug her and say he’s sorry for being such a disappointment – but he doesn’t. He wants Jeffrey to shut the fuck up and turn off that damn television, but he also wants his baseball team to win something so he can be happy. 

He wonders if he wants to go back to Riverdale for any reason that is not his father or Vegas (or, well, Geraldine) – he misses his friends, but he also genuinely thinks Kevin is so amusing, Midge has added him on Facebook and sent him a hello with a smiley face, the idea of a whole new lot of people wanting to meet him is actually exciting, and Betty…  

Betty is something else. 

On Saturday afternoon, she invites him to the mall so they can buy some supplies for school – she looks so good smelling her new books, green eyes shining as she looks around the stationary store; she looks like she belongs in that world of light, pretty colors and pristine white paper. She tells him she writes for the school newspaper, explains what a bullet journal is and how it helped her study to the SATs, encourages him to buy a notebook so he can write down lyrics when he tells her that he composes every once in a while.  

Archie has only hung out with Betty twice, but she’s so familiar to him, in ways he can’t really explain – it’s like they were meant to be friends or something that sounds really dumb, but feels true. 

They drink strawberry smoothies by the lakeshore and she tells him about her family, “My parents are chief-editors of the  _Chicago Sun_ _-Times_. My grandfather was too, and his dad before him, well – it runs with the Coopers, you know? My siblings were supposed to follow the footsteps, but it wasn’t their thing – Polly is now an art major and Chic didn’t even want to go to college.” 

“What about you? Is it your thing?” 

“Yeah,” she bites the end of her straw, “I mean, at this point, I can’t see myself studying anything but journalism. I’ve sent applications to Columbia, I hope I get in,” she smiles brightly, and it makes Archie smile too – but soon it fades on her face, “Jughead also wanted to be a journalist. I’d go to Columbia, he wanted NYU. But, I don’t know, sometimes I think he should go for creative writing. He’s so great at it, he just needed to…” she takes a deep breath, and Archie doesn’t learn what Jughead needed to do because she stops talking as she watches the lake with wistful eyes. 

“Did you see him again, after last week?” Archie asks, noticing how tight she holds the smoothie glass in her hand, making nail indentations on the plastic. 

“Yeah, I met him at the library this Monday,” she throws Archie a glance, “There’s this one in the city center and it’s our favorite. We had a nice time together. I just… I want to get to know him again, you know? I want him to trust me.” 

It’s in Betty he’s thinking about the following day, guitar resting on his lap as he looks out the window. She seemed to know exactly what she wanted, she didn’t even hesitate – college, Jughead. She’d have whole answers if she ever spoke to Ms. Baker.  

Archie plucks chords here and there, trying to complete verses he started singing before, when he decides that, of all the things he thinks he wants, there is something he might want more: to get to know that girl, Lodge. Images of their meeting hover above Archie’s thoughts like a flock of birds, higher than his parents or Geraldine or anything else, and yeah. That’s what he wants, and he shouldn’t hesitate as well. 

Maybe he could ask Betty about her. Kevin would answer but would also tease him endlessly and provide private details that Archie might not even want; Betty would just tell him about her, in the simple way she told him everything so far – they were neighbors, they were girls, she might know her better, and besides, she wouldn’t really ask any embarrassing questions. 

 

 

 

 

It is a solid plan, and he executes it late morning on Sunday before school starts: get the 151 up north, listen to half an hour worth of music on his phone, ask Betty about her mysterious neighbor, maybe get her number or at least her first name so he could find her online. He didn’t need to feel guilty – he wasn’t cheating on anyone, Geraldine had enough time to come looking for him, and did she? – and he didn’t need to feel embarrassed about any of it. It was the first decision he made for himself in a while, and that was exciting. 

It is a solid plan, except he doesn’t text Betty before going (he really, truly, just  _forgets_ to do it, so used to just swing by people’s houses back in Riverdale) and now the doorman is informing him that he was sorry, but Miss Cooper isn’t at home. 

“Oh,” he says, and he must look lost standing there because the man smiles at him kindheartedly. 

“But I can tell her you paid a visit, Mr.…” 

“ _Archie?_ ” 

He turns around to see whoever called his name and knits his brows,  _extremely_ puzzled when he finds Jughead Jones (the third) coming out the elevator. He’s taller than Archie remembers from that day at Lou’s, and since he wasn’t wearing his grey beanie, Archie noticed a hair full of black, thick hair. 

“Hey,” he says, reaching out for a brief handshake – Jughead’s expression mimicking his own in confusion. The doorman seems happy that Archie found a familiar face and leaves his post for a while, going outside as the boys stare awkwardly at each other, “Uh.” 

“How’s the city treating you?” 

“Alright, I guess,” Archie says, his face a little flushed – if Betty wasn’t at home but Jughead was in her building, did that mean she  _was_ at home, just didn’t want anyone to know? And how would he explain what  _he_ was doing here? “I met some people from school,” he says, only to say something, really. 

Jughead chuckles, “Poor soul. I do not miss that place. Except for Kevin and Betty, of course.” 

“They told me you moved schools too. How’s that going for you?” 

He shrugs, “It’s going. It’s been a year already, so… The teachers suck, to be honest, and my grades suck too. But people are a little more preoccupied with other stuff and don’t have time to be WASP-y bullies, so I guess that’s a win-win situation.” 

Archie smiles briefly, not sure if that was supposed to be a joke. Jughead shoves his hands on his pockets, looking the other way for a second. He has clenched his jaw and Archie notices his teeth grinding together. 

“I was trying to figure out which apartment was Betty’s,” Archie says, all of sudden. Somehow all of this feels off and he can’t explain why. 

“Uh, third floor,” Jughead answers, casually, doesn’t look back at him, blue eyes fixed on something (nothing) in the wall. 

“The doorman told me there’s no one home, but maybe she just asked him not to be disturbed since you were there?” 

“Oh. No,” his face acquires a shade of red that wasn’t there, “I – uh – I mean, yeah, I was upstairs, but she left just before I did, so now there’s no one home,” Jughead says, his voice a little choked, and Archie can’t hide his confusion again, “Hey, do you want to grab a burger or something? I’m kind of hungry.” 

“Nah, man,” Archie clears his throat, “Since Betty’s not here I’ll have lunch with my mom. Some other time, though?” 

“Sure. Some other time.” 

 

 

 

 

Kevin yells “Come in!” when Archie rings his bell. He does and finds his friend is half-lying, half-sitting on the couch, a game controller in hand, furiously pushing buttons as someone shoots someone in the television. He barely glances up at Archie, “Die, you motherfu–  _aaar_!” 

He’s playing Call of Duty. Archie hadn’t installed his video game yet – he didn’t have a TV in his bedroom and he doubts Jeffrey would want to share the one in the living room. He sits on the couch’s arm, keeping quiet as Kevin finishes his opponent.  

“What’s up?” Kevin asks, eventually. 

Archie is not really sure what’s up – all he knows is that there are a lot of things bothering him since he left The Pembrooke, and those things got him straight to Kevin’s door after he had lunch with his mom and Jeffrey. He grinds his teeth together for a while, unsure of where to start, “Kev – do you know where Betty is?” 

Kevin doesn’t find the question weird – he keeps his eyes on the screen and his body in the same position, “Yeah, the whole family drove to Pentwater this morning to visit the grandparents. I think she left pretty early –  _YES! DIE!_ ” 

“Where’s Pentwater?” 

“At the other side of the lake… It’s a four-hour ride or something. She’ll be back in the evening, I’m sure. Alice Cooper would never let her miss the first day of senior year.” 

“Hum,” if Betty was so many miles away, Jughead was definitely lying about being at the Cooper’s with her, unless  _she_  was the one lying to Kevin of her whereabouts, which was unlikely. He feels his head aching with the connections his brain is trying to make, and there’s a little voice telling him  _itsnoneofyourbusiness_ every other second. 

“Why you ask?” 

“I – I went to see her, earlier today, but she wasn’t home,” he doesn’t really have in him to lie. Maybe he could just hide half of the truth, diverge the attention to himself so he doesn’t tell Kevin that he met Jughead and that he’d lied about Betty in his face – there is  _one_ little connection his brain has already made, though, and the thought of it is sort of alarming, “I wanted to ask her something, but I suppose I can ask you.” 

“Ask away,” Kevin says, still not paying more attention to Archie than to his game. 

“So, hum, the night I took Betty home, I saw someone going inside her building,” he begins, quietly, feeling his cheeks heat up, “A girl someone. And then I saw her again in the festival, and she was like – she is like, beautiful.” 

It might be his tone, but Kevin stops the video game to look at him, one eyebrow lift up and a teasing smile forming itself on his lips, “Okay…” 

“We talked in the fest; she said she goes to school with you and Betty. And me, now, I guess. I think I kind of liked her? I don’t know, she didn’t seem so interested, but I thought I’d give it a – she didn’t tell me her name, but I think the last name is Lo…” 

“Lodge?!” Kevin lets his jaw drop, and sits properly on the sofa, “O-M-G, Archie Andrews! You don’t aim low, my friend.” 

He sighs – of course, even Kevin knew that girl was way out of his league, but that wasn’t the thing really bothering him, “So,” he grins, a little uncomfortable – with the talk, with the assumption he was making deep inside, with the  _itsnoneofyourbusiness_ reminder, “Are the odds in my favor?” 

“Hm. There’s a lot of drama there, but what is life without it? Also, she’s definitely more of a Cher than a Regina George,” Kevin says like Archie has any idea of what that means, “So I suppose it’s better if you fall for Veronica and not for Cheryl Blossom, but I don’t know if Betty…” 

 _Veronica Lodge._ Of course, her first name was Veronica.  

It didn’t mean anything – but it did. He remembers, clear as day, that name in Jughead’s phone when he first met him, when he left them at Lou’s after her text arrived, and how aloof he was to Betty afterward. He also remembers how upset Betty was, how detached she became from the conversation once he left, how sad her eyes looked when she talked about them in the bus and yesterday, staring at the lake. 

And now he’d found Jughead leaving Betty’s building and lying about it when Veronica lived right there too. There were too little loose ends for this to be only a coincidence. Archie sighs, running a hand down his warm face, and Kevin stops talking when he notices that the redhead’s shoulders dropped. 

“But maybe you  _are_ her type,” he tries, supportively. Archie doesn’t smile. He thinks of how much he wanted (wants?) to know that girl, how the world around him stopped when she walked into his life – but he’s not that sure anymore. The answer to Ms. Baker’s question becomes another interrogation mark, and now, the one thing that he  _is_ certain of, is not what he wants, but what he  _doesn’t_ want. He doesn’t want Betty to get hurt. 

He thinks about what the therapist said – was he able to make important decisions? 

“Kev. I think I need to tell you something.” 

 

 

 

 

The girls are out in a bar/restaurant of sorts, mourning the last day of their Summer holidays and celebrating the beginning of their senior year. Jason and some of the guys in the basketball team are also there, and they’re all indulging in sugary-sweet cocktails and fried appetizers. Veronica’s parents are in New York for  _business_ , and she has the penthouse to herself, which in another time would mean that the little  _soirée_  would be hosted there, but this year, despite Cheryl’s pleads and threats, she just wants to be alone. 

Maybe if earlier on that day Jughead didn’t show up to give back all the college applications she pulled together for him and ask her to stop trying to help him, she would want to go. Maybe if earlier on that day she hadn’t break into her father’s study only to find out that all the drawers locked, and the safe’s combination changed, she wouldn’t feel so morose. But both these things happened – plus Reggie, who kept posting stories of him in the  _fucking Ferris_ _W_ _heel_  with another girl; plus Archie Andrews, the redheaded Ansel Elgort from the Jazz Festival, who made her heart beat in a slightly different way, but who she couldn’t add on Facebook because he was friends with Betty. 

Veronica puts on her silk pajamas, curls up in the living room with a box of macarons and her novel, and she’s only another ten pages in when someone rings the bell. She frowns – Smithers should have called to announce whoever was coming up. There’s a small part of her that gets a little startled, heart beating a little faster, and she wonders if she’s in danger, if her parents found out about the snooping, if she should protect herself. She gets her phone, ready to call the police, and approaches the door carefully when the bell rings again, this time for a little longer. Veronica checks through the peephole to see who’s outside, and her heart  _definitely_ starts beating faster. 

“Betty?!” she says, immediately unlocking the door. This – Betty standing right there, outside her apartment, wearing her blond ponytail – hasn’t happened in over a year, not since… “What th –” 

She doesn’t waste any time, taking a long, deep breath, her eyes shining in an even greener shade against the dim light in the penthouse’s foyer when she asks, “How could you this to me?” 

Betty’s hands are locked into fists, and she looks devastated, her clothes wrinkled for being in a car all day – Veronica knows she was in Pentwater visiting her grandparents, The Cooper’s end-of-holidays tradition – and her mouth is swollen because her teeth was on her lower lip for way to long. 

Veronica is taken aback for a moment, “W…  _What_?” 

“We promised, Veronica,” her voice breaks a little, but her chin is up, “We promised that no boy would ever – and you  _knew_ that – so how could you do this to me?” 

“Okay, you’re not making any sense,” Veronica says, giving her space to get inside the apartment – she  _knows_ the promise Betty is referring to, she remembers the noise the milkshake glasses made when they toasted and swore that no boy would ever come between them, would never matter more than each other, but that was  _before_ and even now, there was no b– was this about the redhead? “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Betty looks foreign in her living room – this realization makes her chest tighten, “The only boy I ever cared about, Veronica. The only one. How could you do this, how could you sneak behind my back with Jughead while I was feeling so bad for you and Reg–” 

“ _Jughead_?! Are you high or something? Why would I have anything to do with Jug–” 

“I know he was here this morning, Veronica!” 

 _Fuck_ , Veronica thinks, making a mental note to get Smithers fired for telling the neighbors who did or didn’t go up their house – she clenches her jaw and crosses her arm in front of her body, “It’s not what you’re thinking,” it’s all she manages to say. 

“Oh,  _it’s not?_ Then why was he in your apartment on a Sunday morning? Especially the morning when  _you knew_ I wasn’t going to be at the Pembrooke? Why did you text him when you got from Switzerland? He’s been drifting away, and I knew something was up, and you know what, it’s okay, he has no idea how I feel, but  _you_ –” 

“How can you think that  _I_ would be romantically involved with  _Jughead_  is beyond me.” 

“What should I think? Tell me, Veronica! You find a bunch of excuses for not speaking to me ever again, you and Reggie break up, Jughead is not himself, you have been meeting secretly for weeks for all I know, and – are you trying to hurt me?! Is that what you want?” 

“Oh, my God,” Veronica says in a sharp voice, “You  _really_ think that I would go all these extra miles with Jughead fucking Jones to  _hurt_ you?! The world really does revolve around you and your feelings, doesn’t it?!” 

“Then are you in love with him?!” 

“Betty, I am  _not_ having an affair with Jughead!” 

“Then why the fuck are you two even spending time together?! You  _hate_ him!” 

She’d be damned if she ever considered telling Betty the truth about all of this – that this hate became guilt and the sleepless nights and trying to help him for  _her,_ Betty’s, sake. It occurs to her that maybe Jughead himself said something, and maybe she should be angry, but honestly, she’s just tired, “I don’t know who told you this nonsense,” Veronica runs a hand through her hair, and decides to go to the place she feels more comfortable in: not lying, but manipulating the truth, “Jughead came here because he needs help, and I am trying to help him.” 

“And he would come to  _you_?! Of all people?!” 

“I don’t know what’s going on in his mind, Betty!” 

“Then what kind of  _help_ is he trying to get?!” 

“This,” she crosses her arms in front of her body again, feeling a little naked in her silk camisole top, feeling stripped by Betty’s green glare, “Is between Jughead and me. But feel free to ask him.” 

“He would  _never_ come to you and not to me about anything.” 

“I don’t know, Betty,” Veronica swallows hard, her heart shattering a little bit as she looks to her former best friend. She knows her nails are digging into her palms, she knows these fists are Betty’s way of self-harm, and she hates to know this, she hates to have loved her, she hates that they are talking to each other in hurtful ways, “You’ve proven time and time again that you can’t be trusted – maybe Jughead just realized that too.” 

The saddest part of it all, is that it’s true. 

Betty’s eyes get damp, and then they shine even brighter; when she blinks, a tear runs down her cheek all the way to her lips. She sniffs, drying the tear with the sleeve of her light pink sweater, “I’ll see you at school, Veronica,” she with a sharp voice, before turning around and finding her way out. 

Veronica’s eyes are dry until they’re not anymore. 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i am back with chapter six, the biggest chapter yet (6K words, wow) but it was needed, since school is finally starting and all the drama that i was setting up in the first five will begin. i know this is a little disappointing since there was no varchie interaction (and archie just did something that maybe he shouldn't have errr) but trust me? lol
> 
> there's a lot of archie's POV in this chapter and i know veronica's POV just left you a little more confused, but I swear to you that soon enough you will learn what really happened between B&V. as promised in this chapter he started therapy, and while it seems he hasn't told her anything yet, he will, rest assured. i hope i can update again by the end of this week! in fact, i couldn't answer your comments on the last chapter today and i will do that tomorrow, hope that's alright! i hope to read your comments and answer your questions in my tumblr, andsmile!
> 
> song at the beggining is [breezeblocks](https://youtu.be/rVeMiVU77wo) by alt-j. as usual, the response for this fic is overwhelming and amazing and i love you so much for engaging with me. see you soon!


	7. Chapter 7

_breathe in for luck, breathe in so deep_

 

“Mr. Andrews,” the school’s principal, Mr. Wetherbee, says as he looks down a file with his lips pressed together in an unpleased expression, “I see your GPA has decreased a great deal from the beginning of your junior year to its end. Your extracurriculars were on point, but I’m afraid this won’t help your admission chances unless you focus and recover your grades.”

Archie feels his stomach twist. He knows this, he knows he concentrated too much on what was going on with Geraldine and lost sight of his college goals, and he has heard the same speech from his parents time and time again, “I know it doesn’t justify anything, but I was dealing with some personal issues at the time, which is why I ended up…” Wetherbee glances at him from above his glasses, making him sigh, “I promise you I am not taking this chance for granted and I intend to do my best.”

“I sure hope so. We at Northside College Prep have a tradition of presenting successful cases. I suggest you join these tutoring groups,” he slides some flyers towards Archie, “and of course, keep going with what you’re good at. I see you attended music classes, and you also were in Riverdale High’s basketball team?”

“Yes, sir. Varsity.”

“Very good – you’re lucky. Your peer mentor, Jason Blossom, who should be here any minute now, is captain of the Northside Mustangs. He will tell you about the – oh,” the principal is interrupted by a knock on his door, “There he is. Come in!”

Jason Blossom, who – according to Kevin – was Cheryl Blossom’s twin brother (but not at all as bad as she was) and Betty’s brother-in-law, kind of surprises Archie when he comes inside Wetherbee’s office. They look very much alike, red hair and all, and he’s wearing a burgundy letter jacket with white sleeves and an N embroidered on it. He throws Archie an easy smile.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Wetherbee. Cheryl took way too long to get ready today.”

“It’s alright, Jason. Let me introduce you to Archibald Andrews,” Archie feels his face warm up –  _no one_ uses his full name, “Mr. Andrews, this is Mr. Blossom, one of our finest.”

“Nice to meet you, Andrews,” Jason shakes his hand, “I’ll take it from here, Mr. Wetherbee. Are you ready for your tour?”

“Sure,” Archie says, glancing at the principal, who nods, excusing him.

“Welcome to the school, Mr. Andrews. And don’t forget to focus,” the man says, giving him a firm handshake. Archie can barely focus on Wetherbee’s features – he has a lot of moles across his face – but agrees anyway, trying to calm the coil on his stomach.

Jason probably catches a look on his face, because as soon as they’re out the principal’s office and the door is closed behind them, he taps a hand on Archie’s shoulder, “Relax, man. Wetherbee talks a good game but he’s the softest person ever.”

“Well, that must be easy coming from Northside’s finest,” Archie chuckles, ears probably red – he’s not sure if he should be joking around with a guy he had literally just met, but Jason remains with his hand in Archie’s shoulder, and laughs after an awkward moment of silence.

“Good one,  _Archibald_ ,” he jokes back, making Archie grin, “So, I’m supposed to tell you the school’s history and all of this, but I’m sure you’re not interested, and neither am I. So let’s talk about what matters. Moose said you were on the varsity basketball team back at your school?”

He’s impressed that Moose paid any attention to the things they talked about in the Jazz Festival, “Yeah, small forward. Wetherbee said you might have an open spot on the team?”

“Since Chuck Clayton abandoned us to wrestle – he’s the coach’s son, can you imagine the disaster? Anyway, tryouts are this afternoon, if you want to come and show us what you got…”

They walk down a hallway that looks exactly like any other high school’s hallway, blanched almond walls, and glossy floors, uncountable red lockers on each side. It is different, though. Lockers in Riverdale High were grey against pale blue walls, and the school hadn’t been redecorated since its foundation. Northside Prep is modern, so much bigger – each year had a whole floor to themselves – with big glass windows all around.

Jason takes him to his locker, and as Archie places all his stuff inside it, the other boy goes on about basketball, “We have some backup guys, but none has shown interest in taking Chuck’s position. He was a shooting guard – you said small forward? Well, maybe. The team now is me, Moose, Steve, and Reggie, but…”

Oh, Reggie Mantle. The guy who was apparently too eager to go to the wine garden to acknowledge Archie’s existence. Of course, he’d be on the team. Archie finishes keeping his stuff in the locker and interrupts the other redhead before he says something like  _Reggie is_ _the new Michael Jordan_ _!_  “Uh, Jason, Kevin told me about this music group or something? Wetherbee told me that I should take all the extracurriculars if I want to survive.”

They keep walking, Archie’s backpack hanging on one of his shoulders, and he holds the strap with his thumb, “Oh, sure, Mr. Stuart is the music teacher, but you should probably just talk to Josie McCoy, she’s the one who’s in charge of all the m–”

A door opens a few feet from where they are, and a girl comes out of it, tall and slender, even paler against her bright, long red hair. She’s wearing a red skirt and a black blouse. She’s very beautiful – but she looks so much like Jason, it’s a little disturbing.

“That’s Cheryl,” Jason says, noticing Archie was staring at her, “My sister, who will not be pleased once she sees there’s another redhead in town,” he chuckles. Cheryl remains oblivious of them as she extends her arm towards someone who’s still inside the room, and a manicured hand reaches out a second later. Her skin contrasts a little with Cheryl’s, golden skin and a pearl bracelet around her wrist, and Archie knows who she is even before she’s completely out the room – the girl in the rain, the Stardust girl, and damn, will she get more and more beautiful every time he lays eyes on her?

She’s something from another era, he thinks, in her lilac and white plaid structured dress. She’s from another world. She links her arm with Cheryl’s and they walk away from where he and Jason were standing, raven hair bouncing with her steps, hips moving inside that dress that would be considered too short back in Riverdale High. Archie can’t help holding his breath, aware that his face is probably the same color of his hair.

“And her best friend, Veronica Lodge,” Jason laughs through his nose, “More of Northside’s finest.”

He blows his breath, something between a laugh and a sigh, trying to school his face into a blank expression, “She’s alright,” he says, like the idiot he knows he is.

“And taken.”

Archie frowns, looking at Jason – he genuinely thought no one knew about the Jughead-Veronica situation since Kevin figured it out only yesterday. But Jason said that Cheryl was her best friend, so maybe that’s how he knows. It doesn’t really matter – he has no intention of getting even more caught up with that drama, not after learning that Betty was pretty upset after finding out.

“Sorry, man,” Jason says, one hand on his shoulder, steering him to move forward, “As your peer mentor, is my duty to show you the school’s boundaries.”

 

 

 

 

Jason guides him through the different classrooms, presents him to a couple of other classmates (Chuck, the son’s coach, and Ginger Lopez, who thought it was really nice to meet him) and once the bell rings, leads him to physics.

Classes are just classes, and Archie manages to survive them without falling asleep, which is a big improvement since junior year when he would often be way too tired to watch a whole lesson without dozing off. He remembers thinking that the tiredness was just a small price to pay so he could be with Geraldine – he still thinks that; still thinks nothing could beat the feel of her beneath him, but it’s somehow invigorating to  _focus_.

In lunchbreak, Archie joins Kevin and Betty in the courtyard, where most of the seniors seem to be eating. He sits on their opposite side. Betty looks tired – there's a hint of dark circles under her eyes – but she has her shoulders squared, her ponytail is higher than ever, and she looks very calm as she peels an orange with almost eerie precision, humming in agreement while Kevin says something about the new biology teacher.

Archie's attention slowly drifts away as he looks beyond his friends to see how the other tables are arranged – Jason, who is sitting with the other guys wearing letter jackets, waves at him. He waves back, and his glance is drawn, like a moth to a flame, to the table where Veronica and Cheryl are sitting with two other pretty, dark-skinned girls.

Now that he can see more of Veronica’s face, he notices that she's not wearing so much makeup, and her pink-ish lips are curled up in a smile, as she carefully unpacks her lunch. He knows that Betty confronted her last night, which is nothing that Archie had in mind when he told Kevin about all those weird signs, and he wonders if that's the reason why her smile isn't quite reaching her eyes.

"I'm just saying that  _if_ she is, she wouldn't be telling you anyway, don't you think, Archie?"

 _T_ _aken_ , Jason said. Off-limits. Maybe she looks a little gloomy because the boy she likes is attending another school. There’s a part of him wondering how the hell did Jughead manage to get two beautiful girls looking heartbroken over him – the part that makes an uncomfortable feeling pulse in the bottom of his throat, and he’s not sure what it is.

“Archie?”

He looks up at Kevin when he realizes he’s talking to him and sees he is turning his head around slightly towards the other table. Luckily, he stops before Betty turns her head too and realizes who Archie was gawking at. Both boys clear they throats, “Yeah,” Archie says, his face warm as he tries to come back to the conversation, “I think so.”

It’s the safest option – agree with Kevin – but it pulls no reaction out of Betty, who is still dealing with her food in surprising serenity, “She is lying to my face. It wouldn’t be the first time,” she rips a segment out of the orange, “And why are we surprised? Look at that family.  Veronica is a bad person. She has always been a bad person.”

It seems to bother Kevin, who shifts uncomfortably in his sit, throwing a quick glance to the girls’ table, and another to Archie, who is biting the inside of his right cheek, “Well, I don’t think you reallymean  _that_ but…”

Betty sighs, throwing the orange and its peel on the tray, all of sudden, “I forgot I need to speak to Wetherbee about the back-to-school dance,” she says, cleaning her hands with a napkin and not once looking at them, “I have cheer practice in the afternoon, maybe I’ll see you at the basketball tryouts, Arch?”

Archie frowns, slightly, and when he looks, Kevin is giving his head minute shake, “Yeah, probably, but…”

“Great. Catch you boys later,” she says, leaving her untouched tray behind, and Archie notices her hands curled into fists as she walks away from their table, passing amongst the others so she can get back inside the school’s building. Veronica lifts her head, watching Betty pass her by.

“Oh, boy,” Kevin breathes, “Five stages of grief. She’s in denial.”

“What’s even going on between them?” Archie asks, eating some of his chips. He chances another glance at Veronica, and she must feel it because her eyes catch his for a moment before he can look away – her lips part (did she just  _gasp_?), but then they curve slightly up in a form of recognition. Archie feels his breath is all wrong and realizes he’s missed half of Kevin’s explanation – he can only look away when Cheryl Blossom stares at their table, searching the object of her best friend’s attention (which is – at the moment –  _him_. Holy shit.)

Cheryl gets up, walking right in their direction.

“I mean, Jughead does have a nice jawline, but still, she knew about Betty’s feelings.”

“Kev,” Archie says, warningly, his eyebrows going up. Kevin looks over his shoulder and then twists his face in a horrified expression as he realizes Cheryl is approaching their table with her red lips twisted into a dangerous smile.

“Archibald, right?” she says, and her voice doesn’t really match her fiery appearance, so strangely sweet, “I heard whisperings. I’m Cheryl Blossom.”

“It’s Archie,” he says, a little – okay, a lot – intimidated by her sharpness. She’s wearing a spider brooch on her blouse, something he didn’t notice when he saw her earlier in the hallway. She looks exactly like Jason, but her eyes are brown, and she lacks the friendly warmth on his expression, “You’re Jason’s sister?”

“Oh, is it that obvious?” she lifts up an eyebrow, “Keller, would you mind?” she asks, already shoving Kevin to his side so she can take his sit, right in front of Archie, her ridiculously long hair flying away with the breeze, “In the name of the Vixens, the cheerleading squad, I’d like to welcome you to our school.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Archie says, almost as the same time Kevin whispers something to himself in the lines of  _as if cheerleading was still a thing_. The Blossom girl doesn’t seem to hear him, though, looking Archie up and down, her eyebrow still up and her red mouth still twisted into a dangerous smile.

“My brother said you’ll be trying out for Chuck’s spot at the team. I wish you good luck, I’d love to see more of you,” she says flirtatiously as she gets up, running a hand through her hair and throwing it to one side. She’s gorgeous, and she knows it – but there’s something about her that is so extra, Archie thinks it’s a little funny, “Follow me on Instagram at  _cherybombshell_  and I’ll do the same. Just be careful,” she winks, and then her glance lays on Kevin, who is one hundred percent  _pouting_ in his seat, “Don’t ruin your reputation before you even have one.”

She leaves as sudden as she arrives, a red whirlwind leaving a trace of sweet perfume behind. Kevin groans, “Wow, the Queen Bey of this drab hive has approved your attendance,” he is rolling his eyes so hard they almost disappear behind their orbits. Archie chuckles, “I guess you have permission to walk the halls now. Congratulations, sir  _Archibald_!”

Archie laughs, throwing a chip at Kevin, who laughs right back at him – without meaning, he ends up looking at the girls’ table to where Cheryl has returned, and his laugh gets caught in his throat when he realizes Veronica is watching at him, again.

 

 

 

 

He laughs with his whole body. 

It’s something Veronica notices when she looks at him as he tosses something in Kevin’s direction, His smile takes over his whole face, lines around his eyes, red, freckled cheeks and pointy white teeth. 

Veronica knew she’d see Archie Andrews at school and she thought she was prepared for it, for  _maybe_ reviving the foolish crush that took over her body when they spoke in the Jazz Festival, but it turns out she was wrong. She was not ready; she felt giddy and stupid, embarrassed for even looking at him in the first place, and her face gets hot when he catches her eyes.

She has to look away, of course. Cheryl notices, of course, but that doesn’t refrain her to make pointed comments when she sits at her side again.

“We have a sweet, innocent small-town boy over there, who looks like Prince Harry,” Cheryl says. Val and Melody laugh – Val looks particularly interested, having thrown glances at his table ever since he got there, when Betty was still with him, “I’m thinking of corrupting him. I’ve had every flavor of boy but orange.”

Veronica almost rolls her eyes – Cheryl did hook up with a lot of guys, although she’s never had a boyfriend, scaring them away before things became serious.  _I’m not wired to a relationship_ , she used to say, quietly, the rare times they talked about it. Her last fling was Chuck Clayton – there were rumors that he got so depressed after she ended things with him he had to leave the basketball team, just so he wouldn’t be around her too much.

Cheryl is so different of Betty in every single aspect. It doesn’t matter how much she tries to train her brain – her thoughts end up coming back to Betty, and she’s so sick of it. Betty, who actually thought she was having an affair with Jughead fucking Jones behind her back, as if she has never known Veronica better than anyone, as if Veronica would ever do something to purposely hurt her that way.

“He looks too much like Jason, Cher,” Melody says, amidst laughter.

“I am an egocentric, narcissist bitch, so I see no problem with that,” Cheryl says, popping a grape inside her mouth.

“That’s twincest,” Val shakes her head. Veronica wonders if she should joke too, say something, maybe point out that the new guy wasn’t an animal in an open auction, but her thoughts are interrupted by Josie, who arrives at their table with an exasperated look on her face.

“ _V,_ ” she says, both hands flat over the table, “I need to talk to you.”

Veronica frowns slightly, “Are you alright?”

“Reggie just ambushed me and asked me in the music room and asked me to be his date at the semi-formal.”

 _Oh._  Just like that, all the thoughts about Betty, Jughead and Archie Andrews disappear from her mind.

“Oh,” she schools her face into a neutral expression, “Are you two going together then?”

 _“Are you kidding me?_ _!_ _”_ Josie asks, her voice reaching a higher pitch, “I almost slapped him! Who the fuck does he think he is, breaking up with you and then going after  _us_?! You’re our best friend! He’s out of control, I’m telling you.”

She feels Cheryl hand on her arm, “I can’t believe that son of a – V, this has gone too far. Why is he even doing this? I swear to God, I’ll…”

There’s a part of Veronica saying that she shouldn’t feel this, shouldn’t feel something hurting under her chest like a heartburn, she decided to let Reggie go – which is why she still hasn’t blocked from social media, even forced herself to watch him all over other girls’ just so she could  _remember_ that she had no say in it, that she was aware of what she was losing – but  _still_. She sighs. There are basic rules to follow here. He could sleep with whoever he wanted, but  _her friends_ , that was a really, really low blow. She would never do that to him – just as she would never do that to Betty.

Veronica knows Reggie enough, though, and she knows that he’s only trying to reach her. She clenches her jaw, takes a deep breath, and interrupts Cheryl before she can say  _kill him_ , “Thank you, Josie, really. I think – I’m going to talk to him.”

“Are you sure you want to do this right now, love?” Val asks, concerned, “You don’t need to be setting yourself up for heartbreak if you –”

“No. No time like the present,” Veronica stops her, lifting up one hand, “I have to slay my dragons, Val. One by one.”

 

 

 

 

Veronica borrows Cheryl’s red lipstick, painting her mouth with precision. War paint.

Looking at her own reflection in the restroom’s mirror, she ruffles her hair to make it messier, and takes a deep breath,  _“_ _Nunca_ _tengas_ _miedo_ _de un_ _chico_ _estupido_ _,”_  she mutters to herself the greatest advise her  _abuelita_  had ever given her.

She catches Reggie just outside the cafeteria. He was already on his basketball practice uniform, grey cotton t-shirt and burgundy shorts, arms slightly stronger than they were when they last held her. The day was still fresh on her memory, how warm he felt in that morning, wearing a sweatshirt that smelled so much like him (perfume, deodorant, a little sweat) it could overwhelm her when she pressed her nose to it, and how sad his narrow eyes looked when she said it had to be over between them.

She wraps a hand around his wrist, and he freezes, jaw clenching and feathering brows furrowing together. 

“Can we talk?” she asks. Her heart is beating – faster, stronger, she’s not sure, but she acknowledges it.

His voice almost sounds different from what she remembered, “What the hell do you want?”

Veronica sighs, taking her with him down the hallway, letting go of his wrist once she’s sure he’s following. She leads him to the music room, which was empty since everybody was still mostly in the courtyard, and the second they’re alone, his expression changes, softens, melts into what she used to call his  _honest face_ , the one he so often reserved only for her.

Her throat aches when she looks at that face, but she speaks anyway, closing the door behind her, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Asking Josie to the back-to-school dance? She’s furious, and so am I.”

Veronica is aware that she doesn’t sound all that furious. In fact, she sounds only tired. Reggie inhales deeply, running one hand through his thick, black hair, “I am single, Veronica. I can do whatever I want, and I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“No, you  _can’t_ do whatever you want, Reggie – look, I get it, you’re over me and you’re just moving on with your life,  _great_. But my friends? That’s off limits, and you know it!”

“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about it if you want nothing to do with me. Josie said no.”

“Of course, she said no! It’s the fucking  _bro-code_  you always go on about! Or what, do you think any of your friends would take me to a date if I asked them?” she crosses her arms in front of her body. Reggie mimics her, and then looks to his side – it wasn’t until now she had a chance to look at his face, to  _really_ look at his face. He’s right there, right in front of her, and without the filters and the noise, he just looked very tired, the sun coming through the windows and submerging the room into a bright-yellow reality. Veronica decides to go on, “It’s none of my business if you’re sleeping with every other girl in Chicago, but please, just  _please_ , don’t put me and my friends in an embarrassing situation.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and she’s almost sure he will say nothing at all, but as soon as she decides it will be better if she leaves, he does say something. She had already turned around, a hand around the door knob, when he asks, his voice slightly breaking.

“Why’d you do it?” Veronica closes her eyes because he can’t see her, “Why did you break us?”

She blows a breath, and even though the last thing she wants to do is turn around, she does, because  _she_ owes him something, “Reggie… This isn’t the time to…”

“I think it is the time. We had plans, V,” he takes a step towards her, and her back is dangerously against the door. She looks into his eyes, something coiling in her stomach, “We were going to California, away from your crazy ass family, and we were going to – why’d you say you needed space when – what changed?”

How does she say, she doesn’t want those things anymore, not when her parents could actually go to jail  _or worst_ if she didn’t try to clean up their act? How does she say that she hates the heat, could never live basking in the sun for too long? How does she say that the decreasing space between them makes the air in her lungs catch on her throat, and that she’s not sure if his affections take her breath away in the right manner? How does she say  _I don’t think_ _I’ve ever felt_ _whatever_ _it is_ _I’m supposed to feel_ _with you_  without feeling like a liar, or a fraud? 

“I did,” she mutters, “I changed, Reggie. I don’t want these things anymore, this summer –” she stops speaking so she can breathe, but Reggie cuts her off with his mouth on hers, lips pressing together.

Veronica gasps – it takes her a second to figure out what is happening, lips closed against his without really moving, his large hands on both sides of her face – but when she does, she places both her hands on his chest, so she can push him away. 

Cheryl’s signature red is all smudged around his upper lip. Veronica’s heart is thumping, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Did you just  _push me_?!”

“Hell yeah – what the fuck are you doing?!” she repeats the question.

“It’s okay,” he laughs, “No is no,” he says, cleaning up his mouth with the back of his hand, watching the red stain he wiped away, “Just don’t corner me in a room to ask me to back off your slutty little friends if you’re not interested in getting me back.”

Veronica bares her teeth together, “Fuck you,” she says, and all the doubts that were crossing through her mind in the last minute disappears and his  _honest_ face is gone and she’s able to name the coil on her stomach as  _anger_ , “Get out.”

 

 

 

Archie packs up his textbooks and grabs his gym bag before heading towards the music room Jason had pointed him earlier. He intends to find the girl – Josie McCoy – and to show her a couple of his lyrics, maybe get her to put in a good word for him with the music teacher, and then head down to basketball tryouts. As usual, the thought of showing his athletic skills in front of a bunch of guys isn’t as terrifying as showing his more sensitive side to one single girl.

Geraldine used to tell him he had a gift, that his songs were touching and personal, but now that things are over – and day after day he realizes that they really are over – he’s not sure if she ever really meant what she’d said, or if she was just trying to please him, if she was just saying what he wanted to hear at the time.

He takes a deep breath, gym back hanging on one of his shoulders, and knocks on the door. He can see, through the glass panel, that the lights are on, and he can hear the soft melody of a piano being played. Wondering if anyone would hear them if he knocked again, he just opens the door, careful not to disturb the peacefulness of the song.

Archie freezes by the door when he sees that sitting by the piano is Veronica Lodge, eyes fixed on her own hands running across the keys. He’s not sure of what she’s playing – he’s heard the song before, the beginning of something, but she doesn’t seem very skilled at it, although very focused. He feels the right corner of his lip curl up in a tiny smile, forgetting about Betty and Kevin and Jughead and Jason and everything for a moment, letting himself enjoy the sight of that beautiful girl producing such beautiful notes with her fingers. He tries to close the door behind him very quietly, but somehow, she does hear it, and the song is over.

She sits up a little straighter when she notices him, red lipstick a little worn out and sharp eyebrows who frown slightly in recognition, “Hi,” she says first.

Archie lips are dry, and he has to lick them quickly before greeting back, “Hey,” his face is already warming up, so he decides to take a hopefully quaint path, “You’re  _Leaving_ , right?”

Veronica chuckles, “Only if you want me to,” she shrugs, mouth curved in the smallest smile he’s ever seen, but just as he noticed in lunch break, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She looks down, in fact, back to the piano keys, and Archie feels something weird right under his chest when he realizes that, in fact, she looks extremely sad.

“Are you okay?” he takes some careful steps in her direction. She breathes in, chest rising up and then down. Her lower lip sticks out a little bit, making it look even fuller.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she says, pressing an E sharp with her index finger. The note reverberates through the room, “How is your first day going? Good?”

There’s a stupid part of him that wants to answer that this moment right there might be the big highlight of his day, but she looks so sullen he can’t bring himself to think of anything else but the trouble he brought her by telling Betty about Jughead. He sets his gym bag down, sitting on a chair right in front of the piano, and the instrument stays between them, almost as black as her hair, “People don’t seem obsessed with me, so I guess it’s good,” he says, “What were you playing?”

“Frozen's Let it Go," the huffy sound she makes is adorable, "It’s the only thing I know how to play.”

“Maybe the music studies here aren’t that good, then?” he tries. 

“They probably are, but I’m not in this class,” she’s still looking down, “I guess there’s your answer.”

Archie genuinely thinks it’s funny – he laughs out loud, knowing he probably sounds foolish, and his cheeks definitely have acquired a brand-new shade of pink. Veronica glances up at him, with big brown eyes and thick eyelashes, her face twisting in a curious expression, “Do you play?”

“Just the guitar. I write some songs too,” he says, and then, because he’s really bothered by the sadness on her face, and would do anything to make her laugh, “Wanna start a band?”

Archie’s legs are restless, and he can’t keep them still, but Veronica does giggle, and it feels like a win, “You should probably buy me a drink before trying to lure me into a dead-end future.”

“As many as you want,” he says, almost automatically, a boyish grin growing on his lips. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, teen outlander,” she kinks an eyebrow, but soon her smile fades on her face, and they fall into silence for a couple of moments. He opens his mouth to ask if she wants to talk about whatever is bothering her, but she speaks first, manicured nails skimming over the ivory keys, “Have you ever felt like… There’s this person, and you think you know them better than everyone, but then something happens, and you realize that you really don’t? And you keep asking yourself… Did I ever really know them? Or was it all just a lie?”

Archie feels his throat aching – there are many things running through his head right now, how sad and beautiful Veronica looks, how their little banter made his blood warm up in his veins, how he might, possibly, be the reason that she is so down. He wonders if she’s sad because of Betty, or Jughead, or both. He wants to say he’s sorry for telling Kevin anything, but she hasn’t even told him her name yet, she doesn’t  _know_ he knows so much about her. He feels a little bad for having all this knowledge, for being so  _nosy_ even if he didn’t mean to, but above all, he knows exactly how she feels. Because he has felt that – he still feels it – with Geraldine.

“More than you can imagine,” he says, sighing, “I have nothing to give you. I just know that things will be okay. We just have to find a way to adapt, even if it hurts. Well, especially when it hurts.”

Veronica looks up at him, and their eyes meet in different brown shades. She nods, “I guess you’re right,” she bites her lower lip quickly, and then closes the piano, getting up and adjusting her tight dress. She runs a hand through her dark hair, that flows around her face like a satin sheet, and Archie forces himself to look away, even though all he wants to do is keep staring. “Josie will be here in any minute, and I don’t want to see her now, so…”

“Sure,” he says, and it’s sort of surprised of how chirpy he sounds, “I won’t say you were around.”

“Thanks,” she grabs her purse – a designer bag, Archie notices, and almost smiles to himself – and her heels clack on the floor when she walks around the piano, extending her hand towards him, “I’m Veronica Lodge, by the way.”

Archie looks at her extended hand, and up at her face, a little grin forming on his mouth, “So, I earned the right to know her name,” he smiles and holds her hand. It’s so soft against his callous fingers, and he anticipates the electricity that will run through him when they touch, but he’s still surprised by the thrill that settles low in his abdomen, “Arch–”

“Archie Andrews,” she says, sliding her hand against his when she lets go. Archie feels the air disappear on the way to his lungs, holding his breath, “I have to go to cheer practice now, but… To be continued?”

He can’t seem to stop his eyes from going up and down her figure, “Definitely.”

She smiles before turning towards the door. He watches her walk away again, the staccato beat of her high heels on the wood floor, and all Archie can think is  _damn_ _._

 

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

 

** don't be afraid of a stupid boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for taking too long. if you follow me on tumblr you know that i have been trying to publish and finish this chapter for days, but i am in morocco and things aren't that easy, and when i finally found time to write my word started with this stupid error and ugh.
> 
> but okay, here we are! school has begun! i had to cut this chapter a little shorter because there was already so much going on. cheryl met archie! reggie shows up! archie and veronica have finally met again! a lot of things you wanted to happen, so i hope you like it.
> 
> i can’t promise you i’ll be able to update again until next week but maybe? fingers crossed. at least riverdale will be back tomorrow! ahhh let me know what you think, you know the response for this fic has gotten me through one of the darkest months in my life, and i just hope to keep interacting with you here and in my tumblr, andsmile!
> 
> love you! oh, song at the beginning is hands down by dashboard confessional (a classic and old favorite).


	8. Chapter 8

_we feel the same without saying_

 

 

Archie’s meeting with Josie McCoy is short. Her dark skin is shiny like a spotlight, and she wears sort of sparkly makeup; it reminds him of her parents on the stage in the Jazz Festival, and how she’s supposed to be a star one day. She’s nice, though. She asks him some pointed questions about his intentions with music and drinks hot tea while he plays one of his original songs, the one he wrote when he found out he was leaving Riverdale and Geraldine behind. It’s even more real now, singing _“maybe I’ll never feel love at all”_ and asking, _“where have I gone, where have you gone?”_

His ears are burning – he’s not that comfortable singing as he is playing guitar – but the way Josie moves her feet in the rhythm might be a good sign. Once he’s done, she says she’ll talk to Mr. Stuart, the music teacher, and that he’d have an answer by next Monday.

“Not bad, Justin Gingerlake,” she says as he leaves the music room, and her smile is definitely a little flirty, making his cheeks heat up.

 

 

 

He gets down to the basketball court and readies himself for the tryouts.

The first drill is easy. Coach Clayton places them in a circle, makes them pass the ball saying their names, then makes them do a full court two-ball dribble. In his peripheral vision, he can see the cheerleading squad doing their routines, especially Veronica, now wearing shorts and long-sleeved tee, high-knee socks and sneakers, and Archie could have been knocked down by the sight of her tossing her hair and shaking her hips if he didn’t have to focus on his game. Betty is there too, and they seem not to be dropping each other on the floor, which is probably a good thing.

He’s not the only one taking peaks at the girls – most of the guys are on the same page, throwing glances and saying stupid things to each other in breathy voices between the drills, but no one seems more pulled than Reggie Mantle, who can’t stay a single second without looking.

They’re paired together for the last drill, a one-on-one full court. Turns out Reggie is taller and more offensive, scoring more points than Archie, who is good at defense and stealing the ball. Coach splits all the boys in two teams, and Archie’s team loses badly, even though Jason is in it – but Archie does score some points and is mildly satisfied with his performance when the scrimmage is over.

As soon as they’re finished, and the coach is distributing jerseys and assigning positions, Reggie stops at Archie’s side, passing the ball quickly from one hand to the other. They’re both watching the girls, and Archie notices Veronica is walking towards Betty for some reason, her raven hair flying around her shoulders.

“Think you got a chance?” Reggie asks, and Archie is slightly confused.

“With whom?” he frowns.

“What?” Reggie seems to finally pay attention to him, turning his head and furrowing his brows together too, and they stare at each other for some seconds, “Of joining the team.”

“Oh,” Archie is glad he was already red-faced from the all the exercise, “I don’t –”

But at this very moment, Coach Clayton throws a white jersey on his face, “Andrews,” he says, “Small forward. Starting team.”

Archie laughs, forgets about everything for a moment, especially when Jason Blossom throws himself on his back and the other guys are congratulating him, and he’s filled with a sort of happiness he hasn’t felt in a while, not since he found out he would have to leave his school and his friends behind, some sort of _belonging_. He’s proud of his accomplishment, and it’s a feeling he had forgotten.

Reggie says congratulations too, but his narrow eyes are fixated on the cheerleading squad. The whole team ends up watching them – there must be some sort of drama going on, since Betty and Veronica are both facing each other now, and Veronica has her arms crossed in front of her body as Betty talks feverishly, gesticulating. The other girls are gathering around them and Cheryl’s glare is so withering that he wouldn’t be surprised if Betty got up in flames all of sudden.

Most of the guys just laugh at the scene and head towards the locker room, but Reggie drops the ball and walks straight into the girls’ direction. Archie wonders if he should go there too and do something, but Jason grabs his arm before he can process, “C’mon, man,” he says, dragging Archie out of the court, “You don’t wanna be caught up in that.”

 

 

 

Reggie shows up at the locker room long after they showered. Both Archie and Jason are toweling their red hairs – Reggie sits next to Jason and says something in a low voice that makes him shake his head as he bursts out laughing. Archie can’t figure out what the hell they’re talking about, so he decides he really doesn’t (or shouldn’t, anyway) care, and schools his expression into a poker face when Reggie pats his back as he walks him by to hit the showers, a smug smile on his face.

Jason is still laughing when he says, “Moose and I are planning on grabbing a beer on the lakeshore, do you wanna join us? Celebrate your triumph?”

Archie is a little tempted, and he supposes he should celebrate it, but he has therapy in a couple of hours – his mother wouldn’t let it pass just because he made the team, and he wasn’t looking forward to brawling with her again (he’d might as well be found dead if he drank in a school night in this new reality) – and he had also promised Kevin they’d get the bus together after school, so he passes, “Some other time, dude. But thanks for everything today – you’re the best peer mentor ever.”

They shake on it, “That’s the word around town.”

 

 

 

Archie leaves the gym after a quick meeting with Coach Clayton, where they discuss Archie’s plans for basketball and college. Kevin is already waiting for him in the courtyard, sitting at the same table they had lunch at with three cans of soda in front of him, and a huge, genuine smile on his face.

“You made the team!”

He takes the Coke Kevin offers, “That happened literally five minutes ago, how do you know it already?”

“I’m the resident Lord Varys, I have my little birds,” Kevin says with an eyebrow raised. Archie laughs and tries to open his soda, “Wait, wait. Betty should be here at any minute to toast with us,” he points the third can. Archie notices is diet, “Oh, there she is! B!”

Betty is still wearing her cheer practice uniform, shorts and burgundy-white tee, when she marches towards their table, her hands balled into fists and her gym bag around her shoulder. Kevin smiles brightly at her when she reaches them with a quiet _hey_.

“Betty,” Kevin says when she sits next to him, “You don’t smell after practice, which is a good thing, but isn’t your mom going to kill you if you go home in these clothes?”

Betty doesn’t pay much attention to what Kevin is saying, and Archie frowns when he notices that, differently from when he observed her during lunch break, she looks very _out of it_ now, shrunk shoulders and lips pressed together, maybe a little paler than usual. The dark circles under her eyes are more prominent, and her ponytail is looser than usual, even with a white bow wrapped around it.

“Archie’s first day was a huge success,” Kevin says, a little oblivious, sliding Betty’s Diet Coke to her, “Josie didn’t say no when he asked to be a part of the music group, and he’s our new small forward, starting line up! Now that he’s a Mustang and you’re a Vixen, you should…”

“Cheryl kicked me out from the cheerleading squad,” Betty interrupts him with a sharp breath. Kevin’s mouth hangs open – Archie remembers the argument he witnessed back at the tryouts and clenches his jaw. He never thought that telling Betty about Jughead and Veronica would have such horrible consequences – if he knew, he would have kept his mouth shut.

“Oh, my God,” Kevin brings a hand to cover his mouth, “Betty, what the hell? Is this about Veronica and Jughead?”

“I saw you guys arguing during practice,” Archie swallows, his stomach twisting with guilt, “But Jason said I shouldn’t be caught up with –”

Betty’s lower lip sticks out and quivers a little, and Archie feels a little panicky, his heart rate picking up. He hates to see people crying, he doesn’t know what to do, he’s – “Did Cheryl say something to you?!” Kevin slides an arm around Betty’s shoulders, “Can she even do that? I swear to God if that bitch –”

She refuses to be held, “No, really, I –” Betty takes a deep breath, and then her hands are flat against the table, palms turned down, “I think I fucked up.”

It’s so weird to see her speaking like that with her sweet tuned voice, it startles both Kevin and Archie a little. Kevin doesn’t try to hold her again but leaves his hand on her shoulder. There’s an uncomfortable sensation on the base of Archie’s throat, and the boys wait for her to keep going.

“Veronica said something about Jughead and I – I don’t know, I can’t even really remember what it was, but then when I realized we were saying some awful things to each other, and all the girls were staring, and Reggie – I don’t know what he was doing there, but he –” she looks at Kevin, nervously, “He just walked right up to me and interrupted us, and asked me to be his date at the back-to-school dance.”

Kevin’s mouth couldn’t be open wider, “Betty!”

She hides her face in her hands, “I said I’d go with him. I was so pissed, I –”

“Oh, my – _Betty Cooper_!”

Archie is not sure if he’s supposed to find this amusing or terrible – Kevin’s expression is somewhere between pure terror and delight. He frowns, looks eagerly between them, trying to understand why would Reggie Mantle stir so much trouble between Betty and Veronica – maybe he was Jughead’s friend? That didn’t make any sense – when Betty keeps talking, “And then he – he kissed me.”

“What?!” both Archie and Kevin ask in unison, but Betty looks horrified with herself.

“Betty, what the hell, Reggie Mantle kissed you in front of Veronica?! Betty! Did you kiss him back?!” Kevin sounds a little angry now, and Archie remains completely mystified by that conversation because it doesn’t make any sense at all. Betty nods, her face still hidden under her palms, and her shoulders are creeping up towards her ears as if she was a frightened cat, “Betty…”

Her shoulders start trembling at some point, and she sobs. Kevin holds her again, and this time she lets him, leaning into his chest. Archie has no idea of what’s going on, doesn’t understand _any_ of it, but hates the sight of Betty crying, hates that Reggie is involved somehow, and hates himself even more for prying into people’s business. She takes her hands off her face, hiding her head in the crook of Kevin’s neck as she sobs, and Archie notices that her palms are bleeding – she’s been sinking her nails into her skin the whole day.

“I’ve lost her forever, Kev.” Archie hears Betty mumbling among her sobs. Kevin looks up at him, at some point, and mouths _I’ll tell you later_ while making soothing sounds, running his hand up and down Betty’s arm.

 

 

 

“Mom, Daddy,” Veronica takes a deep breath, a smile plastered on her face, “I’ve been thinking. I’m seventeen now, and I… _Shit,_ no.”

Veronica stares at herself in the mirror, annoyed with the image and with the high pitch on her voice – she sounds like her thirteen-year-old self-trying to convince her parents that going alone with Nick St. Clair to his lake house was a good idea.

“Mom, Daddy,” she starts again, squaring her shoulders so she can feel taller, “I’ll be eighteen in November, and I’ve been thinking. I want a more active role in Lodge Industries. I mean, my name is on all those docum–” she stops, taking another deep breath. That would be too incisive, her parents would perceive the oddness, “ _I mean_ , I am a shareholder, after all, and I know it’s an honorary title but maybe it can be a real one. Unless there’s a reason why I shouldn’t be involved.”

 _Or a ton of them_ , she thinks, and the bad taste that has been following her around all summer comes back to the base of her tongue. In the mirror, Veronica sees herself, still dressed in the clothes she wore at school, an orange top with a black collar, her pearls and the bounce of her hair making her look a little more grown-up than she actually feels.

Because she feels like a child, and a child who got _beat_. Her first week of senior year was the actual worst – from Betty accusing her of having an affair with fucking Jughead, to him ignoring all her texts until she stopped sending them and almost felt like giving up, and then Reggie and the feel of his lips against hers, raw and hard, and how he might have tasted the same to Betty when he fucking _kissed her_ out of pure spite.

Veronica felt torn apart by that sight, Reggie and Betty kissing right in front of her, like someone had held her edges and ripped her in half, but then didn’t feel anything but motivation – she would get closer to her parents, she would clean Lodge Industries from the inside out if she had to, she would help Jughead get away from the mess her parents put him, and she would prove to Betty that all she ever did was out of love for her. And she would, most definitely, get over Reggie.

And all of this would start tonight after she got that speech right and walked right up to her parents’ study, so she could take her rightful place. They would toast with rum, and that would be the taste of her very first victory in that long ass war she was submitting herself to fight.

 

 

 

“Mom, Daddy,” Veronica knocks on the door, cracking it slowly so she can peak behind it. Her parents are not in their study, after all, but in their bedroom. Her father is tying his tie in front of the floor length mirror, wearing a perfect tailored suit. His face lights up slightly when he sees her through the reflection, the way it always does. The sight of Hiram Lodge always makes her feel things that lie in opposite sides of a spectrum: she’s her safest, but also most endangered self around him.

“ _Mija, acércate_.”

She comes in, closing the door behind her; her mom is in the walk-in closet, trying on different shoes to wear with a white dress that’s tight to her body, and Veronica bites the inside of her cheek, trying to decrease the anxious feeling that’s taking over her, “Are you going out tonight?”

“It’s _La Boheme’s_ opening night,” Hermione says, two different Louboutins on her feet, one nude and the other one black. She glances at the shoes and then at Veronica, one of her eyebrows popped up, and Veronica nods towards the black one, “Weren’t you supposed to be at the Blossom’s, getting ready for the back-to-school dance?”

“I’m not sure I’m going,” she sits at the edge of her parents’ king size bed, watching as her mom changes the nude shoe for the black one, “It’s just a stupid school dance, and after all this Reggie mess, I’m not sure I’m –”

“No, no, _mija_ ,” Hiram interrupts her, finishing his job with the tie and moving on to smooth out his black hair, “This is your last year in high school – no boy has the right to make you feel like you should be missing any of it. Reginald might be a good kid, but he’s forgetting you’re a Lodge. _Nunca tengas miedo de un chico estupido, ¿cierto?”_

She smiles briefly as she remembers her _abuelita_ advice – it’s even funnier when her father is the one saying it – but it doesn’t quite calm the coil in her stomach. Should she place her father in the same category? Just a stupid boy that she shouldn’t be afraid of? Veronica takes a deep breath, sitting up straighter, and placing her hands on her knees, all poise and prim.

“This reminds me of something,” she starts, carefully, “I’ve been thinking, and now that I’m about to become eighteen, I think it’s about time I get more involved with Lodge Industries,” she says, and wonders if her parents heard her – they keep getting ready as if nothing has happened. She swallows around the lump in her throat, prepares herself to recite the speech she’s practiced, “I am a shareholder, after all, and I –”

“That’s an honorary title, _mija_ ,” Hiram says, glancing over at her.

“Let’s make it a real one, daddy. I wanna get my hands dirty, be around you when it happens. If you’ll let me, of course.”

“What do you mean by getting your hands dirty?” Hiram’s eyebrows are drawn together, and Veronica opens her mouth to answer him, but it’s Hermione voice that comes first.

“Oh, Hiram, if Veronica wants to be more involved, than she should be,” her mother says as she places two diamond studs in her ears, “More responsibility is always good. But we can discuss that on Monday, sweetheart – remember that we’ve been trying to follow the no-work-on-the-weekends policy?”

Veronica almost clenches her jaw – she doesn’t, though. Her parents were particularly good with body language. Of course, her mother would be the one to discourage this conversation. _As if_ going to the Opera with a bunch of rich politicians and businessmen was just a fun date night. Inhaling a sharp, short breath, Veronica plasters a smile on her face, the very same one she mimicked in her reflection earlier, and her eyes travel from her mother to her father, and back again, “ _Por supuesto_ , mom. No work on the weekends.”

Hiram seems satisfied with her grin and then pretends he’s shocked by the hour when he glances down at the Rolex on his wrist, “We should get going, _mi amor_. Veronica, why don’t you take the limo? Andre can drive you and your friends to the dance, how does that sound?”

 

 

 

Andre, her father’s driver, takes her to Thornhill so she can get ready, and waits around to take her, Cheryl, Ginger, and Tina to the dance. He is sort of cute, so the four of them giggle when he discreetly checks them out – they all look gorgeous and they know it, bouncy hairs and bold, glittery makeup, short cocktail dresses and high heels.

In the back of the limo, they pop a bottle of champagne open, laughing and dancing to the sound of Cheryl’s _part-ay_ playlist. Veronica, who has already taken a shot of vodka at Cheryl’s house, laughs and dances a little less than the others, still upset about how the carefully planned talk with her parents went, but that heavy feeling that has settled on her chest last Monday is slowly and finally lightening up. She’s glad that her friends all took her side and decided to come dateless to the dance – the basketball team _did_ ask them ( _them_ , not Veronica, nor Cheryl, who were apparently off-limits having dated Reggie and Chuck Clayton), but they were all so pissed at boys in general that they all said no. It almost makes her forget who said _yes_ to her ex-boyfriend.

“The big question of the night is,” Ginger says, filling her glass with a little more champagne. Veronica leans her back against the leather seat to find Cheryl’s arm behind her. Cheryl’s hand goes inside her hair after a beat, fingers caressing her scalp where it meets her neck, and the touch makes her giggly and sleepy, “Who is going to ride that ginger stallion first?”

Tina chokes on her drink as she laughs. Veronica lets her mouth hang open, “Are you talking about the new guy?”

“Well, I’m not talking about Jason.”

Veronica glances at Cheryl, who looks drunkenly comfortable in her tight, red dress, and arches an eyebrow, her hand still inside Veronica’s hair, “She’s not talking about me either.”

“We have Calculus together,” Tina says, between giggles, “He’s sweet, and a little shy; he’s sort of adorable, really.”

He really is. Maybe it’s the alcohol or Cheryl’s soft touch against her scalp, but Veronica can’t help but smile a little to herself when she allows her mind wander to Archie Andrews and all the times they’ve met during that week, their talk in the music room when she was upset about Reggie and how his smile had the power to make her forget about it for the slightest second.

He’s always looking over his shoulder in the hallways after he’s found out where her locker is, and it might be only in her mind, but his brown eyes always linger when they find her. Sometimes he smiles, sometimes he looks away, and his freckled face acquires a new shade of pink that does something to her insides because she’s the one who’s put them there. And, while yes, he’s Betty’s friend, they’re always around each other, and Betty _sucks_ , there’s just something about him that Veronica thinks no one else has noticed.

She wonders if she should say something about the times they’ve talked, how freakishly cute he was around her. She bites on her thumb, pondering if anything on her face can give away her thoughts.

“His abs are definitely adorable,” Cheryl says, abruptly, as she takes her hand off Veronica’s hair and sits up straighter, “Maybe we should make sure he attends the after party. I’m in the mood for chaos.”

 

 

 

The back-to-school semi-formal was organized by Josie (and Betty, but she was officially canceled from Veronica’s life until further notice), which means that everything is perfect – the place was beautifully decorated, blue drapers falling around it like a tent or something, sparkling lights and good music playing. Veronica and Cheryl walk into the gym with their arms linked together, followed by Tina and Ginger, and they’re already a little tipsy from all the champagne they drank in the way.

As hard as she tries not to, her eyes wander around the place looking for Reggie. She does find him, by the punch table, with Moose and Jason, and he is staring right back at her, a hip flask on the way to his mouth. He’s handsome in his navy blazer, which is no surprise, and she holds on to Cheryl’s arm a little tighter when images from junior prom come back to her when their eyes meet. She and Reggie won King and Queen then and had such an amazing time together – it’s funny how one summer can change everything.

Veronica also looks for Reggie’s _date_ , but she can’t see Betty anywhere. A part of her is a little disappointed; she was hoping to see them together as quickly as possible, to face that reality and move on with her life after ripping it off like a band-aid.

“Ugh, maybe one day I’ll convince Jay-Jay to hit a ball on his head and kill him,” Cheryl says, rolling her eyes dramatically, her hand sliding down Veronica’s arm to hold her hand, “Will you be okay alone for a minute? I have to talk to Wetherbee about the speech, but when I get back I promise I’ll be a much better date.”

Veronica smooths down a curl in the edge of Cheryl’s long hair, “You’re already the best date ever.”

Cheryl smiles, and it’s so honest it’s almost a little sad, and Veronica wonders, as she walks away, if it isn’t hard for Cheryl to attend these events only with her friends or dateless, to jump from guy to guy, always taking too much and offering too little, if there is a reason why she can’t seem to fall for any of them. Despite having known the redhead all her life, Veronica still struggles with figuring her out.

Veronica turns around and does see Betty, walking around and tending to every detail, talking to chaperones and making sure they don’t notice half the basketball team spiking the punch. She used to get so stressed in a pre-dance week, and Veronica only imagines that after Cheryl kicked her out from the cheerleading squad (serves her right, to be honest, even though Veronica does feel a little guilty) Betty is probably even more involved with all her event-planning duties.

That’s it _if_ she didn’t spend her whole week with her tongue shoved into Reggie’s mouth just because she really did believe Veronica was doing the same with Jughead. Well, maybe she _should_ be making out with Jughead (who couldn’t even be there, by the way), just so Betty had a real reason to be a bitch.

The mere thought of it makes her cringe. She takes in a deep breath, notices Reggie has left the punch table and walks right to it. She’s gonna need another drink if she’s starting to think that making out with Jughead Fucking Jones would be a well-suited revenge.

 

 

 

Cheryl, who is the honorary chairperson, gives her speech about the importance of them walking together into their last year of high school, a year that would change everything. She thanks Josie for the incredible work with the dance organization (she also thanks Betty, but her voice reaches a whole new high-pitched level of fake when she does it) and calls Josie, Valerie and Melody so they can play a couple of songs.

By the time the girls are up on stage, Veronica is already a little drunk, sipping on lukewarm punch that has been very much spiked. They’re all wearing little cat-ears headbands and they look like a real band when they start playing a slow cover. It prompts couples to join the dancefloor, and Veronica sees something pink and black moving in her peripheral vision and prepares herself to see Betty and Reggie dancing together, but the boy taking Betty to the dancefloor is just Kevin Keller.

She frowns, looking over to where some of the guys in the basketball team were, and her heart beats a little faster when she realizes he is, indeed, alone and looking at her, again. His plans about coming with Betty probably didn’t come through. One of them realized what a hurtful, horrible idea it had been in the first place.

Veronica wonders if she should wait, if she _could_ wait and stare until Reggie comes and asks her to dance – a little part of her _wants_ that, as she wistfully sees the couples wrapped up on each other – but ultimately decides she can’t do that. She scans the room to find where Cheryl is sitting, but the only redhead she sees is Archie Andrews, who has his back against a wall and his phone in his hand. The faint light accentuates his features, and he’s so tall, so gorgeous in his suit, red bow-tie, jeans and _Converses_ , it gets her lightheaded.

Walking up to him is the hard part. When she reaches him, and those red spots appear right on his freckled cheekbones, the rest is easy, “Are you playing Candy Crush?”

He laughs, “Busted.”

“Did your date ditch you?”

“Dates,” he frowns a little, glancing at Kevin and Betty on the dancefloor. Veronica frowns – if Betty came with them, then Reggie’s plans definitely fell through for some reason. Archie must catch some sort of confusion on her face because he’s immediately explaining himself, “I mean, they both brought me here because I didn’t really... Well, it’s not a threesome situation.”

She kinks an eyebrow, a little amused, “Stay away from the punch if you don’t want it to become one.”

He gets even redder but laughs again, and it’s real. He did this the other time too, in the music room, laughing at her as if he meant it, as if he thought she was genuinely funny, “Is this why you’re not staying away from it?” he glances at her cup.

She grins, and maybe she imagines the way his eyes are stuck on her lips when she does that, “Nah. Just stupid ex-boyfriend,” she nods her head towards the corner where the guys still are, and she can feel Reggie’s glare burning on them. Archie’s jaw clenches a little – she can see how his maxilla sticks out his cheeks – but he nods, silently telling her that he’s heard all about it, “I thought _I_ ’d be stuck in a non-threesome situation tonight, but if you came with Betty, then…”

“Betty _and Kevin_ ,” he says, as if he was trying to make a point, “I have no right to say something, but for what it’s worth, she really did feel terrible about what happened, she regretted it immediately.”

“Sounds like her,” Veronica breathes, not sure if she’s relieved or upset that Betty was the one backing down. She takes another sip, and tries to avoid the empathetic look on his face – he really does know everything, doesn’t him? “You know what? I changed my mind. Don’t stay away from the punch. Life’s too hard when you’re sober.”

 

 

 

Archie follows her to the punch table, and they sit down together on the bleachers with their newly filled cups and watch people dance from above. The way the fairy lights were hanged makes her think stardust and the way they met at the Jazz Festival, not so long ago.

He answers when she asks him where exactly he came from. The way his tongue and lips are red, stained from all the cranberry juice, is slightly distractive, but she does her best to pay attention as he speaks about his hometown, Riverdale, a little place in upstate New York with a maple forest and a river called Sweetwater.

It sounds like something out from a Truman Capote novel. She thinks about him and that hair and mouth, a blur of red amongst green leaves and white snow, thinks that she must have never really fitted in that place, not with that face, or those shoulders, “Why did you have to leave?”

Archie takes a deep breath and looks away before saying something, and she knows that she’s hit a nerve, but eventually he does speak, and it’s soft and low, and he looks at his callous hands the entire time, “I had a relationsh… I was involved with someone,” he says, “My parents didn’t really approve when they found out, and well, here I am.”

She frowns. There’s probably a lot more to it, and if his parents reacted he was probably _in danger_ , but by the way his jaw is clenched, she thinks it might be better to leave it at that. But as soon as she opens her mouth to change the subject, he continues, and it startles her a little bit, “It’s not that I don’t like it here, you know? I mean, Riverdale was forever the same and I always wanted something more, but it’s the way they did it, the way they just… Literally didn’t ask what I wanted. They didn’t give me the right to choose any of it and it’s, I don’t know. I thought they trusted me,” he shrugs and drinks a little.

Veronica wants to tell him that she’d give anything to have parents that would take her away from a dangerous situation instead of putting her on it. She’s lucky to have Hiram and Hermione, who were still together despite it all, _she knows_ – The Blossoms and even the Coopers were way worse towards their children – but she’s also not. They had never trusted her with anything or gave her the right to choose anything, so her status quo was to treat them like business partners, to manipulate and negotiate until she got what wanted. It was exhausting.

“Trust breeds trust,” she says, taking another sip, “Maybe if you trust they’re trying to do what’s best for you, next time they’ll trust you to make decisions to yourself?”

He looks at her, right into her eyes, and smiles a little, a delicate admiration and gratitude right on the corner of his lips. The DJ leaves to give Josie, Valerie and Melody, another chance at a song, and Veronica smiles briefly towards the stage when she recognizes the soft melody of Cindy Lauper’s “All Through the Night.”

Veronica loves this song, just like she loves Stardust. Could she ask Archie to dance? She even had the right words on the tip of her tongue, _do you trust me to take you to the dancefloor?_ She has a feeling he would say yes, that he’d smile at her that way that made her stomach twist. Something more powerful than the alcohol runs through her veins when she imagines his hands around her waist, just barely resting, and how eventually their hips would connect.

But he also just got into the basketball team, and she didn’t want to ruin all his chances by showing him off in front of Reggie and Jason and the other guys. She also didn’t want to do this in front of everybody, so the girls could talk about how she should be riding the _ginger stallion_ and all their giggly, pointed comments. There was a part of her that just wanted to keep Archie Andrews to herself.

“Hey,” he says first, and her heart skips a beat – was _he_ going to ask her to dance? – when whatever he was going to say gets dead inside his mouth.

“V! There you are!” is Cheryl who found them and interrupted them, and the look on her face makes Veronica clears up her throat, feeling skittish as if she just got _caught_ , “What are you doing here?”

She fails to answer immediately, which is ridiculous, since they were just talking, for God’s sake. Why did this have to be so awkward? It’s probably the alcohol that’s getting them out of it, Veronica thinks. Yeah, that was probably it.

Cheryl doesn’t seem to really need an answer, though, “ _Anyway_ , we’re leaving after a couple of songs. Archie,” she turns to him as if she was just now seeing him, but then she takes his hand on hers, giving him that distinct, seductive _Cheryl_ look, “Do you know is a tradition here in Northside, that a newly minted Mustang has to dance with the captain of the Vixens?”

Veronica frowns, and Archie snorts, but it’s on his face that he does find her genuinely funny too – it bothers Veronica a little bit, because she’s _drunk and ridiculous_ , and especially because his hand is still holding Cheryl’s, “Is it, now?”

“I guess it means you have to dance with me,” she pulls him, and he gets up, laughing and leaving his punch cup with Veronica, “We’ll meet you later, V!”

Veronica raises Archie’s cup, which was fuller than hers, anyway, in a quick toast. She feels a little stupid. Reggie has wrapped himself up with a girl from the junior year; Betty is dancing with her brother-in-law and they seem to be having a good time. She drinks all the punch as she watches Cheryl leading Archie Andrews down the bleachers and towards the dancefloor.

Before they start dancing, though, he glances back at her over his shoulder and gives her a little smile with his mouth tinted red. Veronica bites down her lower lip, and all the bad thoughts disappear because all she can think is _damn_.

 

 

 

_tbc_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh, i’m sorry i took so long. i had the hardest time with this chapter because i had no time, riverdale sucked all my inspiration with that dreadful episode, and veronica’s pov combined with the hugest pms made me so insecure. i hope you do like it, though. i think i sort of did, in the end.
> 
> so, here we have #varchie interaction! betty fucking up but trying to fix it up! archie and… cheryl? reggie and archie really meet! hiram says hello. what do you think? do you miss jughead? he’ll show up in the next chapter.
> 
> this one was purposely more of a ronnie chapter, and next one we’ll have more archie. next chapter will be a fun one, i guess. yes, ronnie repeating archie’s thoughts from last chapter was a parallel (: oh, guys, do you need me to translate the phrases in spanish or is that okay?
> 
> please please please let me know what you think, validate me, i’m so crazy busy and insecure these days and i know only your comments and questions can help me out. i love you! see you in the next week, hopefully! don’t forget to reach out to me on my tumblr, andsmile!
> 
> song at the beginning is all through the night by josie and the pussycats (love this version, best riverdale cover!)</


	9. Chapter 9

_at least we were electrified_

 

 

 

Both Archie’s hands were resting on Cheryl’s narrow waist, and she’s smiling at him like she’s trying to read him, or like she already  _has_. He knows it’s a staged smile, supposed to make him fear her, her omnipresence in his new reality, but he still just finds it funny, and the alcohol doesn’t really help him keep a straight face.

He wanted to be dancing with Veronica, whom he left at the bleachers with a wry smile and his punch cup. He can still see her over Cheryl’s shoulder, and he’s not sure if she’s  _watching_ them dance, ut the redhead girl already has stated how rude it was for him look at somewhere else that wasn’t her face while they’re dancing.

It’s taking him an enormous effort to look away. Archie still doesn’t know what is about Veronica (besides how beautiful she looked in her little black dress, that what just short enough, and how the golden skin on her exposed shoulders looked so soft his hands were almost itchy wanting to touch it, and how easy it seemed to open up around her and to make her smile) that draws him like a moth to a flame. He has been attracted to a lot of girls since he found out how good they smelled, and the connection he’d felt with Geraldine was impaired, no matter how much his parents called it  _abuse_  – but what happens to his insides when he’s near Veronica Lodge is something completely new, still too fragile to put a name on, but undoubtedly there.

There was, of course, the issue with her being the girl who broke Reggie Mantle’s heart so hard that he couldn’t really function anymore and was going all around making bad decisions, and how the whole teammate-code should prevent Archie to get any closer, but  _she_ was the one who wanted to talk to him in the first place, he wasn’t really breaking any rules.

There was, also, the complicated situation between her and Betty and… Jughead. Which is mainly why, even though he wanted to, he didn’t ask her to dance. However, it was probably a good thing that Cheryl interrupted them and demanded his attention.

 _It’s okay,_  he thinks. Cheryl’s also gorgeous – her pale skin makes such a huge contrast with the deep red of her dress, and she’s so tall in her heels that she can stand face-to-face with him, palms against his shoulders, “JJ says we should like you,” she says while they move to the sound of Josie’s cover, and he knows she’s not letting him lead the dance, “But I’m not sure why. One of your friends is Gossip Girl, and the other one is a traitor.”

He snorts, “You can’t be serious.”

“Except I am. You’re new here, which means you don’t know anything about how things work. But don’t fret, it can be a smooth transition. I can gladly help you get what you want, if you’re smart enough,” Cheryl gets closer to him, their chests inches away, and he feels her cheek against his, “You’re invited to my after-party,” she says against his ear, and Archie frowns, unsure of what the hell she thinks he wants, “The smart move is to come. The dumb move is to stay your friends. You choose, ginger spice.”

 

 

 

 

“Sounds like something Cheryl would say,” Betty’s pink skirt is flouncy and has too much fabric. When she sits down, she ends up looking like a flower fairy or something, with petals unfolding around her, “Oh, my God, do you think she’s propositioning you?”

Archie laughs, a new cup of punch on his hand, since Veronica had already disappeared from the bleachers with his when his dance with Cheryl was over, “Honestly, Betts, I have no idea.”

Kevin looks uninterested, his eyes fixed on his phone as he types frantically. It’s honestly impressive that he can type and talk at the same time, “Of course, she is. You’re new and hot  _and single_ ; all the girls probably want to hook up with you, so she needs to mark territory first. It’s High School wildlife 101,” he sounds bored.

Betty snorts, taking a sip of her own punch. She looks like someone who drinks very carefully, but tonight, especially, with all the drama that could have happened around her, she’s been nursing the same punch cup for a long while, “She really is the evil twin, isn’t she?”

“Different people come out from the same womb,” Kevin says, still looking at his phone with a jaded expression, “Take your brother, for example, Betty, did you know he’s on Grindr?”

“Kev!” she sounds a little flustered, but there’s also laughter in her voice, “It was bad enough when I had to use Chic’s computer for a paper and found out that  _naked bear_ means something else with the Safe Search off.”

Archie almost chokes on his punch. Kevin finally looks up, laughing too, and despite everything that could have gone wrong in that dance, Archie is happy his friends managed to have some fun. Kevin sees something over Archie’s shoulder, then, and his expression changes, “Talking about naked bears…”

Is Moose who is approaching them, walking with his hands on his jacket’s pockets, without Midge on his heels, even though they had been wrapped up together during the entire dance, “Hey guys,” he says, casually, “You’re all going to the Blossom’s, right?”

“As if I’d be caught dead in a party hosted by Cheryl Blossom,” Kevin answers, sharply, and immediately looks back at his phone, looking very much aggravated.

“Jason is the one who invited us, though,” Betty answers, ever the diplomat, trying to sound a little politer, “But we still don’t know. Are you and Midge going?”

She has a pretty smile on her face when she asks that, and Kevin is downright rolling his eyes.

“She had to bail. Something with her parents,” Moose says, and there’s a beat of awkward silence. Archie is not sure how much he and Betty are supposed to know about Kevin and Moose’s involvement, and he knows his poker face is terrible, so he just retreats to his punch, “I was hoping to see you guys there. You too, Kev.”

“Can't-do,” Kevin gets up, looking defiant, “I’ve got a date tonight,” he glances down at his phone. Archie’s eyes catch Betty’s, and she rises her eyebrows.

“You do?” Moose frowns, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, bearing the same expression he had on in the Jazz Festival when he thought Archie was Kevin’s date for whole five minutes.

Kevin ignores him almost completely, tilting his head down to give Betty a kiss on her cheek, “The dance was lovely, B. I’ll tell Chic you said  _hey_.”

This time Archie does choke on his punch. Betty’s mouth is hanging open, Moose’s jaw is clenched, and Kevin leaves so dramatically that, if he was wearing a cape, it would be floating around him with the movement.

 

 

 

 

Archie hangs out with Betty for about fifteen more minutes, after she’s freed from her committee duties. The gymnasium was slowly emptying since everybody was going home or to the party Cheryl invited him to. She agreed to take another drink with him before leaving, and Archie was letting her decide if they were going to the Blossom’s or not. As much as he wanted to talk to Veronica again, Betty was still his friend and priority.

They stay a little while in silence, that is broken when she starts laughing about something, “Can you believe how Kevin told me he is casually banging my brother?”

Archie laughs too, “Moose is probably licking his wounds right now,” he says, and Betty covers her face with both hands, cheeks a little flushed with the alcohol and the subject, “Do you think he’ll ever, you know, come out? Midge is so nice.”

“She is,” Betty nods, biting on the hem of her plastic cup, “But I mean… Sometimes, we’re just… Afraid, you know? Of being rejected. Of ending up alone.”

Archie looks at her, and remember the nail indentations of her palms, the blood and the tears staining her face, and how she spent the whole week on the verge of falling apart, and feels a little daring, “Is that why you never told Jughead how you feel about him?”

Betty glances up at him, green eyes and pink cheeks, and takes in a deep breath before nodding, and looking down again, “There’s something about me,” she says, quietly, “That I think I’m scared to give him. I’m scared to drag him into something that… I don’t even know what it is,” she sighs, “And now, that he might be with Veronica, I just –”

Archie bites the inside of his lower lip, waits for her to exhale and continue, because the thought of Jughead and Veronica together bothers him too, even if just a little, even if just for Betty.

“Jughead knows Veronica,” she flicks her tongue, licking her lips, and she looks very fragile when she does it, “His father used to work for her father. He knows her as much as he knows me, and even though things weren’t always smooth between them, a little part of me always thought that they were… You know. Soulmates, or something. They’re so much alike. They even have the same flaws. It makes so much sense when you think about it. I guess I’ve always been waiting for the minute they’d end up together, enemies to lovers, or something. But then, V started dating Reggie, was so in love with him, and Jughead and I were so close, I guess I just let it slip my mind.”

“Do you really think they’re together, though? I mean, I know what I saw,” he adds, quickly, doesn’t understand why the topic gets him so nervous, “But I don’t know him, not like you do, and maybe we just jumped into conclusions.”

Betty bites her lower lip, thinking it through for a minute, “Honestly? I'm not sure, too. What I know is that no matter what’s going on between them, it’s no excuse for what happened between Reggie and me,” she sighs, “Which is why I have to stay away from that party tonight. But I think you should go, Arch,” she reaches out and rests her hand over his, giving him a sweet smile, “It’s your first Northside real party, your first experience at  _Chez Blossom_ ,” she laughs through her nose, “I don’t think you can miss it.”

He nods, grinning back at her, “Yeah,” he laughs a little, “Yeah, okay.”

 

 

 

Clifford and Penelope Blossom are – of course – traveling for business purposes like they always seem to be whenever there is a dance in Northside College. The penthouse has been transformed into a lounge club for the night, complete with a DJ, purple and blue lights tinting the walls around them, and a bartender that honestly doesn’t mind serving hard liquor to underaged people.

But the thing about going to a party at Thornhill is that you don’t need to worry about seeing someone you don’t want to, because you most definitely will. As much as Cheryl wants to brag about it, it’s not an exclusive party, not at all. Half of the people that Cheryl hates, Jason loves. Half of the people Cheryl puts an effort into terrorizing and threatening, Jason welcomes with a warm smile and open arms (and an open bar, that also lures dates and friends and people no one has ever met to the ever famous  _Chez Blossom_ ).

This is how Veronica knows that, at any moment now, she will turn a corner and bump into Reggie, who, of course, will say something that will make her impossibly angry; which is why she takes the tequila shot the bartender pours her. She has accepted her fate for the night – getting drunk to the point of forgetting why she was drinking in the first place – and has decided to make the most out of it.

 _“¡Arriba!”_  Veronica, Ginger, Tina, and Valerie say together, raising their shot glasses,  _“¡Abajo! Al centro, pa’ dentro!”_

They lick salt off the back of their hands and down the clear liquid, that burns down her throat, all the way to her stomach. She immediately sucks on a lime wedge, and the alcohol + sourness combo hits her in a familiar, bubbly way. Valerie grabs her wrist and pulls her to the dance floor, which is actually just the main living room cleared from its furniture and bathed in a sea of strobing lights. Veronica throws her arms in the air and dances, letting the music take her body somewhere else.

She dances with Valerie and the other girls, beaming at her friend whenever she opens her eyes and they sing along to the song the DJ is playing, and their fervor has definitely lured more people to the dancefloor, that is slowly getting packed. Veronica doesn’t really look around but, of course, she sees Reggie as soon as she opens her eyes, grinding against the same girl he was dancing with back in the gymnasium, a pretty thing from junior year who doesn’t seem to mind that he’s got his hands resting on her ass.

She feels sick when the girl kisses Reggie’s neck, because Veronica knows how it smells, knows the texture of its warm skin under her tongue, and the only silver lining she can find is that  _at least_ he isn’t making out with Betty (again) in front of her (and if she could bet, it was all due to Betty’s strange remorse).

Veronica rolls her eyes and steers herself to the bar, bumping into them on purpose just so they can pull apart for one second and see what hit them. She can’t even decide what the hell is she doing when she stares right into his eyes and lifts one eyebrow, hoping her withering glare melts him to the ground. She looks away before he can get defiant (she misses when his features fall, and his honest face shows for the slightest second) and approaches the bartender for another shot.

“Make that two,” Cheryl appears beside her, and she looks so gorgeous in her new outfit (a pair of black leggings with roses embroidered on their front pockets, and a see-through black chemise) that it takes the poor guy a minute to figure out what she asked him, “Do you wanna get fired? Two shots!”

Veronica snorts, “Is that really necessary?”

“If we don’t harass the help, they start having ideas,” she says, in that way that makes Veronica ask herself if she’s kidding or not, “Anyway, what are you going to do about that?” she points towards the dancefloor with her head, and Veronica knows she’s talking about Reggie. The shots arrive just in time, but Cheryl doesn’t lose any time with toasts and downs her tequila in a second.

“Fuck him.”

“He kissed that high-strung bitch Betty Cooper, and now he’s making out with  _anyone_ just to get to you, and you’re just sitting there like a stupid lemon.”

Veronica drinks her tequila just to avoid an answer, and the alcohol does the job of getting her numb enough so she’s not that tired of this whole situation. She imagines what would Cheryl say if she knew that she lied about her breakup with Reggie from the beginning. Cheryl was normally pretty unforgiven with secrets – she would call it  _disloyalty_ or something huge like that, would throw a tantrum and spend days without talking to her, plotting a revenge. Sometimes,  _only sometimes_ , Veronica misses the way Betty would deal with her problems, her secrets, even if it backfired eventually.

“I don’t know, Cheryl, I’m not inside his head,” she runs a hand through her hair, messing it up a little bit, avoids looking anywhere else but the bottom of her shot glass, “I don’t know why he’s trying to get to me, kissing all these girls and my best friend and –”

It just runs off at the mouth because she had been thinking about Betty, and Veronica stops before even finishing the sentence, too aware of what she has just said. Cheryl is too,  _painfully_ so, and not even trying to hide how much Veronica’s words have stung. She purses her red lips together after a small moment of honesty.

“Your _best friend_ ,” she repeats, and it’s quiet and probably as sour as the lime on her tongue.

“Cher, this is not what I meant. I’m sorry.”

Cheryl’s expression shifts, becoming icy and dangerous, “What, exactly, are you sorry for? Are you sorry that Betty fucking Cooper, who betrayed you and your family, almost costing you  _your future_ , and who also shoved her tongue inside your ex-boyfriend’s mouth without reason on the first day of senior year is still your best friend, or is it something else?”

Veronica doesn’t even have the time to search for an apology when Cheryl turns her head to the door, her face strangely lightening up, even if in a counterfeit way, when she sees who has just arrived.

“But don’t mind  _me_ , Veronica,” she says, getting up, “I have better things to do. Hey, gorgeous!” she calls, enthusiastically, walking right up to Archie Andrews, who just walked in with Moose, tie long gone and messy red hair, “You made it. And without your hobo friends, I see.”

She lies a perfectly manicured hand on his forearm and uses it as leverage to kiss his cheek, staining it red. Veronica covers her face with her both hands, pressing into her forehead with her fingertips, a small headache starting to kick in. Veronica hears Cheryl high-pitched laugh, the flirty one, followed by a loud scoff and Archie with his hands on his pockets, giggling embarrassingly, and decides that she might need another shot to go with the burning sensation that settles on her stomach  _again_.

 

 

 

 

All the parties Archie had gone to in Riverdale were very much the same – barbecues during the summer or  _get-togethers_ in someone’s house during school months, with loads of cheap, lukewarm beer, the air smelling like something sticky, and indistinct music playing. The party at the Blossoms, however, is something else. Archie has never been to a nightclub, but he imagines  _that_ must be how it feels like, all those flashing lights and loud, pop music, a haze that he’s not used to and much harder liquor being drunk around.

He hadn’t attended any parties in his junior year – the school dances were fine because Geraldine was always around as a chaperone, and he’d die to want to dance with her but not being able to, but the after-parties seemed so dumb and childish, given that he would never have the chance to take her with him and push her against a wall in the corner or smile against her mouth.

But he is seventeen – isn’t he supposed to be dumb and childish sometimes? It’s what his mother told him when he texted her about the after-party,  _go on and be seventeen!_  Cheryl looks a bit like a goth princess under the purple lights, since they make her fiery red hair and lips lose color, becoming something almost black, and her skin is even paler. She pushes him to the bar, asking for two tequila shots and a cranberry juice (to tide him over after the first hit, she says). He only understands what it means when the tequila hits the bottom of his throat and almost kills him with fire, and she laughs when he downs the juice immediately afterward.

She talks him into taking the second shot as well, “It will blow your mind.”

Archie’s doesn’t know why he agrees, but as soon as he drinks the second choice, followed by more juice, his face gets hot, and he can’t seem to stop giggling when Cheryl grabs his hand in hers and steers him through the dancing crowd. There was a flood of thoughts going through his brain, and they were all a bit disconnected: was it even legal to receive so many people on a penthouse? Why did she even want his company, anyway? Could he convince her to be nicer to Kevin and Betty? Did Veronica even come to this thing? He can’t seem to spot her anywhere.

He does see Reggie Mantle, though – he’s making out with a dark-haired girl in the dancefloor and Archie  _almost_ gets smashed by a ton of bricks, but then he realizes the girl is  _not_ Veronica, even though she’s about the same height and is also wearing a black dress. Looking again, she’s nothing like Veronica, not even a third as beautiful, and he blows a breath with something that dangerously feels like _relief_.

Maybe the second tequila  _did_ blow his mind, after all, because besides being  _relieved_ that Veronica and Reggie aren’t back together, Archie also forgets all about Betty and Jughead and that  _soulmates_ talk she was babbling about earlier on, and his focus shifts to the sole purpose of finding Veronica amongst all these people. He really just wants to see her under all those lights.

Cheryl throws her arms in the air to the beat of the song playing, and Archie looks around with his hands on his pockets, dancing a little, too. He finds Josie, Melody, and Valerie, distinguished from the others by the cat-ears, and waves at Josie when she notices him. The other Vixens are near, and his teammates, all but Moose, are kind of circling them and failing at the  _not-ogle-at-the-girls_ game. He feels Cheryl’s body getting a little closer to his, like she’s ready to dance together again, but then Jason comes between them, looping his arms around them both, “Archibald!”

Jason is definitely already drunk; Cheryl complains about something Archie can’t hear over the loud music, Jason just rubs her head and messes her hair, and Archie looks and feels like their younger, third sibling, “Let’s get drinks!”, Jason shouts, “Ow, V, you read minds or  _what_?”

Archie is puzzled to whom exactly Jason is talking to, but as soon as he turns his head he can – finally – see Veronica in her little dress, her hair a lot messier than it was back at the dance, her mouth shining with saliva or lipgloss or fruity cocktails. She’s carrying two of them, poured into tall glasses that are decorated with orange slices, and their eyes meet for the slightest seconds before she frowns – Jason has let go of them and grabbed one of the glasses.

“These were for Cheryl and me, JJ,” Veronica says, getting the glass back, and Archie smiles goofily at the affectionate tune she used, missing the way Cheryl expression shifts from annoyed to complete blues. He does notice, however, that Veronica looks a little nervous, teeth digging into her lower lip, “Peace offering?” she raises the cocktail towards her friend.

Cheryl barely raises an eyebrow, “Come, JJ. Let’s get drinks together. Sex on the beach is your  _best friend’s_ favorite drink, not mine.”

She swirls on her heels. Jason shrugs, and rolls his eyes to Veronica, but follows his twin sister towards the bar anyway. Archie is left standing a couple of feet away from her, and she would seem tired if she didn’t look so beautiful.

“Ugh, why is everybody mad at me?” Veronica asks to him and to no one, mouth going around the straw, so she can take a sip of her cocktail. Archie feels his mouth dry out, and the tequila has probably given him with some sort of newfound confidence, because he just takes the other glass from her hand and is granted an interesting glance.

“Well, I’m not mad at you,” he says, sipping the drink as well, and it tastes like peach and alcohol and cherry syrup; it probably tastes like her mouth right now, “Which means you have no choice but to stick around.”

She looks curious – smiling and then laughing – and turns around a little more so they face each other completely, standing still in the middle of their dancing peers, “Alright then,” she says, chinking his glass with hers, and they both drink at the same time before she says, “You’ve got yourself some company. What you want to do?”

He needs to take a deep breath before answering that one – he’s not sure how long he stares at her eyes, that are so big and dark, Archie finds himself thinking of lyrics about black-holes sucking you in, “I’ve heard things about this place. Wanna show me around?”

“Well, no one knows  _Chez Blossom_  like  _moi_.”

He’s not even sure of what she’s talking about, but Archie  _swears_  her smile is a little devious; he even feels it in his lower abdomen.

 

 

 

 

Veronica takes Archie’s hand and steers him through the crowd. She can feel the look on her friends’ face when they walk out the living room together – she can feel  _Reggie’s_ look when he witnesses the scene – but it occurs to her that she doesn’t really mind, not with all the alcohol running through her veins. Archie lets her lead him through corridors, looks adorably smiley behind her, and they walk into the first chosen room.

It’s just another living room, really, one that’s keeping most of the furniture from the other, and she has to let go of his hand, so they can dodge the couches and crystal jars, reaching the opposite end. She leans her hips against the back of a desk, and Archie does the same, standing beside her, both with their drinks half-finished in the hands.

“Can you see this?” Veronica looks up at the wall in front of them, where a huge picture is hanging – it takes her breath away to even stare at it again, “It’s an original Van Gogh. Back in the day, Mr. Capone himself sold it to Cheryl’s grandmother for a stupid price, and it is probably worth millions of dollars nowadays.”

“Wow,” Archie says, staring at the picture with a slightly open mouth. Veronica is not sure if he’s someone who appreciates art, but he does appreciate music, which means there is a sensitive bone somewhere in that tight body. She looks at his profile while he looks up, his Adam’s apple on his throat and the shape of his jawline, “Isn’t that like… Theft?”

“Yes,” she says, “Does it bother you?”

“Kind of,” he looks at her with his thick eyebrows burrowed together, but there’s something else on his expression other than disturb, with a tinge of gleam on his pupils, “Is it wrong that I also think it’s incredible?”

Veronica’s lips are dry, all of sudden, and she needs to wet them with her tongue. She doesn’t imagine the way Archie’s eyes kind of follow this movement, and it makes her heart pick up its rate a little, “You’re a little more dangerous than you look, aren’t you? All boy next-door-ish,” she tries to say it playfully, bumping his shoulder with hers. It works, because he’s suddenly red-cheeked again, chuckling.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he raises one eyebrow, lively, and she’s not sure if the light banter made it sound even more like she was flirting with him, which she wasn’t. Wasn’t she? Veronica is glad Archie decides to follow up, “Is there more stolen artwork around here?”

“Hm,” she says, finishing her drink and prompting him to down his, “No. But the tour,” she gets up and finds herself in front of him, poking at the center of his chest – since he was still leaning on the table, their height difference was lessened, “Is not over yet. Come, come, Archiekins.”

 

 

 

 

Archie follows her around the Blossom penthouse, the music playing in the party getting lower and lower and they go deeper into hallways and rooms. Archie’s drunk haze is wearing off bit by bit, and he’s getting painfully aware of how  _alone_ they are for the first time – things like Reggie, Betty, Jughead, and Geraldine, that had been pushed somewhere in the back of his brain with the tequila, are coming back. Should they be alone together? Should they have left the confusion in the main living room without thinking it through?

Veronica doesn’t really seem to be fretted by it, though. Jason’s room and his collection of Basketball trophies – and the picture-frame he has on his nightstand, of him and Betty’s sister, Polly, who does look a  _lot_ like Betty in all her green-eyed glory. He wonders why she’d take him to someone’s  _room_ , though, until Veronica kneels and reaches for something under the bed, making a triumphant face as soon as she finds it.

“Aha,” she shows him a bottle of something that looks like spiced-rum, “He always kept the good stuff hidden,” she uncaps it before Archie even has a chance to be gentleman and offer his strength, and it’s a little unsetting, how her mouth shapes around the bottle when she takes a sip, and how her face twists into something like  _pleasure_ once she drinks. Archie’s recent soberness commands himself to look away before his mind starts playing with him.

She doesn’t offer him, just leaves the room as she drinks a little bit more, and Archie follows her, his gaze immediately running down her back towards the shape of her hips, and he curses himself for having this idea, “Should we come back to the party?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets and feeling his usual fidgetiness again.

Veronica looks over her shoulder, “Where my ex-boyfriend is eating someone else’s face and my best friend is jealous over my former best friend who actually hates me?” she opens another door, “No, thank you.”

She enters the new room, and Archie follows her without realizing what it was – a walk-in closet with board games on the shelves and coats hanging and just a whole lot of stuff. There’s a bulb of yellow, faint light above their heads, and in that small, dark space, they have no choice but to stand only a couple of feet away from each other. Veronica takes another sip of the rum, looking at her side, face dropping a little.

Fuck. To hell with it. Archie takes the bottle from her hand, and takes a sip too – the burning sensation down his throat is encouraging, “Are you okay?”

“Me, Cheryl and Betty used to hide in here when we were little, when her parents were being especially stupid about us having sleepovers,” there’s a small, wistful smile on her face, “It’s just so sad to think that we’re starting to fall apart,” she inhales deeply, “It already happened between Betty and me, and between Betty and Cheryl. And now, it’s probably gonna happen again.”

Archie drinks some more, and then rests the bottle on a shelf beside him, “When my parents got divorced, I really thought I was going to lose my mom forever,” he feels compelled to say, “I got so used to living with my dad, who was always more like my best friend than  _my dad_ , so when he sent me here I was so angry, and now I’m living with mom sometimes I just... But I get to live with my mom, something that I never, in a million years, thought would happen again. So, I don’t know. Sometimes we need to fall apart to be put back together, I guess.”

It sounds stupid when he says it, and he even cringes a little – great advice, Archie, you sound like an emo song from the 00’s – but Veronica looks up at him, blinking with long, thick lashes, “Do you miss him? Your dad.”

“Yeah, every day,” he confesses, because her whole presence is so  _strong_ inside that small, dark space, he feels like he has no option but to be completely honest, “But I’m still angry.”

She nods, as if she understands, and then studies his face with her eyes, taking a beat before speaking again, “And the girl you were with back in your town? Is that still happening?”

Archie feels something in his throat, and his heart races a little more as he gives it thought. He has been in Chicago for almost a month, now, and has heard absolutely nothing from Geraldine, so even if there’s a small part of him that still wants that, still  _misses_ her, there’s another part that’s painfully aware of what that question could mean, “No,” he answers, his voice reaching a lower pitch, “I guess that’s over for good.”

“Were you in love with her?” her arms, that were crossed in front of her chest until now, drop down to the sides of her body, exposing her collarbones and shoulders, and the pearl necklace around her neck. Archie takes a little while to answer it, trying to find something inside of him that wasn’t distracted by Veronica’s skin painted gold under that yellow light, and something that wouldn’t give away the complexity of everything he had felt with Geraldine before.

“I thought I was, for a while,” he says, and she opens her mouth, but he decides that he wants something back from this, “Were you in love with Reggie Mantle?”

Veronica looks down, and then up at his face again, and he has no idea if he  _should_ be feeling like this or even asking this kind of stuff when Betty was still crushed by Veronica’s secrets, and she might be involved with someone else, but to be honest, he knows he has given up all of his willpower the minute they walked together into that trap, “I thought I was, for a while,” she mimics his answer, and he wonders if she’s mimicking his intentions with it, too. Pretending things weren’t that serious, just so they don’t feel that serious, not right now, at least.

Staring so hard at her eyes is making him a little dizzy. He needs to take a small step ahead, and regrets it almost immediately because now their hips are probably only four inches away from touching, and he can feel the electricity in the space between them. He can’t say anything; all the words have died around the lump in his throat.

Veronica is tilting her head up, and if Archie leans in, if he  _just_ leans in, he will be able to kiss her. All the thoughts and noises in the world have disappeared, apart from how heavy their breaths sound in sync, apart from the heart he feels thumping in his chest.

He does lean in, but she pulls away her head ever so slightly, and he freezes with his eyes open and fixed on her mouth, and he barely understand what she’s saying when her lips move, “We shouldn’t do this,” she whispers, but the warm breath that comes out with her words tickle Archie’s lips, and he can’t even care.

“We definitely shouldn’t do this,” he says, can’t remember for the life of him  _why_ , and ducks his head down so he can capture Veronica’s lips with his. It starts slow, tentative, just his lips closing around her full lower lip, but as soon as their bodies touch – chests and stomach and hips – she inhales in a way that almost sounds like a whimper, and Archie is possessed with a hunger he didn’t know he could feel, and wraps one arm around her waist, pulling her closer, opening his mouth against hers.

Maybe is the fact that he had been writing songs about that girl the minute he first saw her, but kissing her is  _something else_ , something that even in his wildest dreams he didn’t think he would feel. Their tongues are dancing together, and it’s slow enough to make him feel all sorts of textures and tastes, and then it grows harder, faster, some sort of classical crescendo that gets him breathless.

Veronica’s arms are around his neck, but then one of them get inside his hair, nails against his scalp, and Archie responds by diving one of his hands on the back of her head as well. Her silky hair gets tangled on his fingers, and he doesn’t want to, but he ends up pulling her hair slightly, and she moans from the bottom of her throat, but it doesn’t sound like pain, it sounds like…

 _Oh_.

Archie’s body responds immediately to that sound, and he would feel a little ashamed if she still wasn’t kissing him like her life depended on it. He’s glad for the sturdy material of the jeans that probably prevent her from feeling how hard he was getting, imagines for a second the disaster that would have been to have chosen suit pants to the semi-formal, but at the same time the pressure bothers him – he wants to grind against her until he finds release, to feel her body even closer, to find more of her skin with his fingers.

The arm around her waist lets go slowly, and he dares feeling her with his palms, first her lower back, and then the side of her body, how tight that dress is on her perfect figure, how the fabric feels against his hand. The other one, that was inside her hair, travels down, and the skin on her exposed back is so soft, she feels like something expensive, beautiful and forbidden like that picture she showed him an hour ago.

Veronica’s hands also move, for Archie’s disgrace, going down his shoulders and inside his jacket all the way to his back, and then even lower, circling around his torso until they reach his stomach. She smiles a little, breaking the kiss, and Archie is not sure if it’s because she’s felt his abs tighten with her touch, or if it’s because her right thigh just brushed against his growing erection under his denim.

He wants to say  _sorry_ – it’s what he was used to doing while making out with his crushes, and when he kissed Geraldine for the first time and she smiled at him and said they should  _take care of it_ (a minute before he lost his virginity to her) – but there’s something about Veronica’s smile against his lips and the way she just presses her body harder against his that get him thinking that he’s not sorry, not at all. He trails his lips from her mouth down her jawline, holding her chin and tilting her face up to find access to her neck.

Her leg is between his now, and she whimpers when he finds her pulse point and sucks it, moving her hips against his ever so slightly. Archie’s hand, that had been resting on her waist, slowly goes down, waiting for any retaliation, but finding none, until it’s down her ass, and then she rests her palms on his shoulders, fingernails sinking into his shirt, and he thinks he must be doing something right.

 _“Ronnie,”_  he whispers. Veronica kisses him on the mouth again, and he puts his both hands on the back of her thighs, picking her up, and she moans a little louder when she wraps her legs around him, dress hiked up and exposing more of her golden, soft skin. Archie props her against  _somewhere_ – a wall, maybe, or shelves, he doesn’t care – and finds himself between her thighs, kissing her so deeply he can’t even concentrate on all the things he’s experiencing.

Her breasts are going up and down against his chest, his jeans are so uncomfortably tight right now, her calves are crossed on his back, and  _oh_ , he wants more, he doesn’t know how he can get more,  _he needs more_ , should he tell her how much more he needs? Should he press even harder between her legs? He sucks on her tongue, and she moans again, and he can’t help but groan too, right inside her mouth. She smiles one more time, and he ends up smiling too, but doesn’t take too long before kissing her again.

But then there’s something – something that’s foreign, a sound that’s not their breathing or whimpering – and it makes her contract on his arms. She pushes him by the chest and gets down his lap, and when he opens his mouth to say something, confused, she rests a finger on his lips to shut him up.

 _Voices._  Archie can’t really recognize them, but frowns, and keeps quiet, hands still around her waist, when she looks at him with wide, panicky eyes, because the people that were speaking were speaking right in front of the closet, now, and it was, unmistakably…

“Cheryl,” Veronica whispers, and tries to do something, but her lipstick is smudged, and her hair is a mess, and her dress is out of place, and Archie has a hard on that still hasn’t gone anywhere, and they have no time to do anything before Cheryl opens the closet,  _why the hell didn’t they lock that closet_.

It takes Archie a little while to adjust his eyes to the strong white light that hits them – a camera flash? Maybe a flashlight? – and even puts his hand in front of his face to make some shadow, but he barely sees it, there’s not enough time.

Cheryl is standing there, holding that light, and she’s a glimpse of red and white when she says, “Told you they’d be here,” and Veronica says something else that Archie cannot process, because Reggie Mantle’s closed fist hits his face so hard, he falls back.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i wish i could’ve updated yesterday, but oh well. i hope you like it anyway! y’all knew that was going to happen, didn’t you? i hope you like my take on our baby’s closet kiss ;) but this story still has a very much slow burn, so don’t worry, don’t panic, or do. more hints on the triangle, this chapter. i had a lot of interesting theories on my tumblr’s inbox, and all i can say is that someone got it right.
> 
> i know i promised juggie would be back on this chapter but it was already way too long (7K words!!!) and i needed to make some changes. anyway, hope it was worth the wait. yes, reggie just punched archie. yes, cheryl is guilty. let the drama rise! next chapter will contribute more to the plot lol. rating is getting slightly up, right? 
> 
> THE LAST CHAPTER THO, guys, the response!!! i still can’t believe it, i recheck the comment section everyday because i’m that overwhelmed. i hope you keep on commenting like this, it’s the biggest inspiration on the world for me. i am travelling for work and busy as hell but i love you so much i was even sleeping less so i could finish this. honestly, this interaction means everything to me, here and in @andsmile! thank you, really!
> 
> song at the beginning is dress by taylor swift.


	10. Chapter 10

_i can admit, i am not fireproof_

 

 

 

It all happens very fast: there’s a little scream. Archie’s back hits the shelves behind him and all he sees, for a moment, is black. Some force holds him in place – which, when he’s able to open his eyes, he discovers is just Reggie’s left hand pushing him against the shelves, and his fist would definitely find its way to Archie’s face  _again_ if Veronica didn’t go between them, pushing her ex-boyfriend away so hard he tumbled back.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” she pushes Reggie one more time.

“What the fuck are  _you_ doing?!” Reggie looks so huge in front of Veronica, almost dangerous; and maybe it’s that notion, the notion that he might need to protect her, that gets Archie’s adrenaline picking up and makes him  _finally_ snap back into reality. There’s something warm running down his brow bone, towards the side of his face.  _Blood_.

“I think we all know  _who_ she’s doing,” Cheryl says, with a small smile on her red lips that doesn’t quite reach her eyes and her raised brows.

“Are you happy now, or do you want to take more pictures?” Veronica spits in anger, and it immediately wipes Cheryl’s smile off of her face.

“Maybe, so I can publish them on my family’s newspap –  _oh_ , wait, somebody already did that!”

“And you, man?!” Reggie points at Archie, who is still inside the closet, unsure of how to react. His first instinct would be to square-punch Reggie back, but Veronica was between them, and she looked so  _furious_ for someone so small, and what was there to say anyway? “Aren’t you a Mustang now?! We respect each other, you son of a b–”

It’s the hypocrisy that hits Archie even harder than the punch, “You were out there grabbing someone else’s ass in front of her and you wanna talk to me about respect?!”

“I swear to God, I’m gonna kill y–”

“What the hell is going on here?” someone barges in, and Archie doesn’t need to look away to know it’s Jason, followed by half of the party. There are murmurs and laughter and  _oh my Gods_ floating around them, and Archie wipes the blood away from his cheek with the back of his hand, a reflex. “Archie?!”

Of course, even if Jason was drunk, he could figure out what was going on – down to Archie’s bloody face, to Reggie’s purple knuckles, to the girl between them whose dress and hair were completely unkempt; it didn’t take a genius to solve this equation. Archie clenches his jaw, probably out of respect to Jason, who had been nothing but nice to him since the beginning.

“Just a friendly reunion, JJ,” Cheryl says, and if Archie’s eyes weren’t stuck on Reggie’s, he would notice that she was also glaring at Veronica. “Archie and Veronica were probably just talking inside that closet, isn’t it right, V?”

Archie finally steps out of the closet to stand beside Veronica – it wasn’t fair that she was in the front line of all those faces staring at them while he was hiding. Veronica has her arms crossed in front of her body and her chin tilted up. Archie glances at Jason and sees his brows furrowed together – he remembers the thing Jason told him in his very first hour at Northside Prep,  _she’s taken_. It was a warning, and he didn’t make anything out of it.

“No, Cheryl. In fact, you and this troglodyte spoiled the moment,” Veronica says, heedless, and the way she says it, it’s almost like she’s  _proud_. Someone does a catcall sound in the  _audience_ they’ve now got, someone else says  _woohoo new guy!_ ; Archie feels Jason’s and Reggie’s scowls burning on his face, and is not really sure of what to do, when Veronica continues, “Everybody knows now, so what else do you have against me? You shady bitch.”

Ignoring all the whispering and laughter (there’s even some  _clapping_ ), Veronica turns on her heels and walks with her head up, and she bumps her shoulder right into Cheryl’s when she passes her by, silently telling the redheaded girl to get out of her way. Archie watches the trace of wrath she leaves behind.

“Veronica!” he calls, chasing her through the observing crowd, swimming out of those shark-infested waters.

 

 

 

 

Of course, something like that would happen, the minute Veronica chose to step back and do something without thinking. Hermione was always talking about how Lodge woman should never act thoughtless, how they were strategists first and foremost, lionesses hiding on the tall grass, patiently waiting for the right hour. But Archie Andrews looked so good – with his eyes on her lips and his hair like fire under the yellow light in that closet, leaning in and enveloping their beings in electricity – that she couldn’t find that strength inside her, it had died low on her core.

She’s very much aware of everybody watching her as she walks right past Cheryl, through the people who would obviously remember everything on Monday, no matter how drunk they were, and feels a little dizzy with the whole muttering and clapping around her.  _Show is over!_ she wants to turn and scream, but that would give everybody yet another reason to talk. So, she just heads towards the little side room opened for everybody’s jackets and bags, so she can find her purse and get the hell out of this house.

“Veronica!” she can hear someone call her. For a minute, she thinks it’s Reggie, and she walks even faster out of reflex, finally reaching the room and starting to look for her things amongst a sea of blazers and purses. “Hey! Ronnie!”

It’s the  _Ronnie_ that makes her stop and turn her head towards the door. No one had called her that before – the first time was, actually, not too many minutes ago, a bare whisper against her mouth that had sent shivers to places she never even knew existed in her body. She bites her lips when she looks at Archie Andrews again.

“Are you okay?” he asks, standing at the door with both hands on its frame, hair a mess and a black stain forming itself around his left eye, a cut on his supraciliary bone, blood drying up down his cheek, but what gets to her is how  _worried_ he looks, like she was the one who just got beaten.

“Yes,” she assures him, finally finding her stuff. Veronica doesn’t bother putting her jacket on, not wanting to give anyone time to follow her. Archie gives her space to walk through the door. And when she passes him by, the look he gives her makes her feel as overpowered as he appears to be, and she does it again – she doesn’t  _think_ – when she grabs his wrist and pulls him with her, “C’mon, Andre must have a first-aid kit in the limo.”

 

 

 

 

The blood has stained his shirt’s collar, and the washcloth she used to clean up the mess on his face is also drenched. “Does it hurt?” Veronica asks, as she carefully places the band-aid on the cut, which, thankfully, is not that deep and has stopped bleeding already.

They’re both sitting in the back of the same limo she and the girls had a pre-party at. It seems like another life, the way Cheryl’s hand was inside her hair and they were all calling Archie  _the ginger stallion_  – she would have never imagined that, a few hours later, she would be there with him, tending his wounded face, having felt his body against hers in more ways than she should have.

“Just a little.” His head is thrown back, resting on the seat, and with his eyes closed, she can see that he has long, uncountable, dark red lashes. The skin around his right eye is darkening already, and it will probably swell up too, in a couple of hours. “Tomorrow, it’s gonna be a bitch.”

Veronica finishes her job and gathers all the trash so she can throw it away, “Have you ever been punched before?”

“Ethel Muggs, in sophomore year,” he says, smiling, eyes still closed, and his voice sounds as lazy as he looks, sprawled out on the seat. “We were playing truth or dare, and she was dared to punch someone. I volunteered thinking it would be better if she hit  _me_ instead of one of the girls, but then she  _really_ hit me,” he laughs. “Reggie’s got nothing next to her.”

Veronica smiles as she pours some sanitizer onto her palms and rubs her hands together, watching his pinkish lips stretched out in his boyish grin. She knows he’s probably still a little bit drunk and wishes that her own haze hadn’t faded with everything that happened (his hands and his mouth and how quickly it all went away). She sits next to him with her legs crossed. “What a fucking mess,” she says, though it has nothing to do with the story he just told. “I’m sorry.”

He opens his eyes, then, glancing at her with a somewhat curious expression, “What would you even be sorry for?”

Veronica sighs, “Getting you  _punched_?” She can’t help but smile a little bit, looking down when she sees he chuckles too. “Getting you,  _the new guy_ , in the middle of the senior year’s first big gossip?”

They are still parked in front of Thornhill – the party didn’t end when they left, apparently, since they could feel the loud  _thump_ of the music even all those floors down, and Andre was just waiting for her to give him an order and drive somewhere. Archie looks at her again, the grin on his face slowly diminishing, and she’s not prepared for his features becoming all soft and serious. She’s also not prepared, at all, for him reaching out his hand and pushing her hair out of her face.

“I have no regrets,” he says, quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear and then running his thumb down her jawline. Veronica breathes in deeply and fails to let the air out, holding it for a second, trying to think about all the reasons he should  _not_ be touching her face like that right now. “And…”

He takes his hand away and lets her exhale, and his little boyish shrug makes her bite down the inside of her mouth. “And?” she asks, raising an eyebrow, turning her body towards him just a little bit more.

“It’s not like everybody  _really_  knows what happened there, right?” his eyes are on her face again, but his hands are now resting on his lap, and Veronica almost wants to pull them until they glide all over her body, not really careful, just like inside that closet. She knows what he means: the gossip would go all around Northside Prep, but no one was  _really_ there. No one was trapped in that dark space with nothing but fire. She lifts her knee a little bit more until it nudges the side of his thigh, and it’s warm where they touch.

“No,” she says, softly. She can see, in her peripheral vision, the limo’s fridge and a last bottle of champagne waiting to be opened, but there’s something that’s telling her to  _stay sober_  and remember the tones of red his cheeks were getting as she leans in a little bit closer, and he focuses so hard on her lips that he gets a little crossed-eye, “Do you have to go home? Or…”

She ducks her head down, brushing his mouth with hers, and their lips are dry and tentative against each other for a second. Archie breathes inside her mouth, “ _Or_ is good,” he says, and Veronica smiles, pulling away so she can clear up her throat and press the intercom button for the front seat.

“Andre,” she says. Any other day, she’d be worried Andre could rat her out to her parents, but she had slipped two-hundred dollars in his hand in exchange for silence, earlier on, “Take us to the Pembrooke.”

“Sure, miss.”

Veronica comes back to keep on kissing him, but it’s his turn to pull away, brows furrowed together, “What about your parents?”

“Well,” she says against his lips, and it’s her turn to reach out a hand and rest it on the side of his neck; it makes him smile, “let’s not get caught.”

 

 

 

 

Crossing the lobby, that stands between the car and the elevator, is the longest distance Archie has ever walked.

He’s not sure of how they ended up here.

All those words Reggie had spoken about Mustangs and respect are still resonating somewhere in his brain, and his face is surely starting to hurt more. However, he has no idea  _why_ when he pushes Veronica’s body against the elevator’s walls, locking her between his own body and the mirror behind them, kissing her hard and mellow at the same time, as she fumbles the wall trying to find the button that will take them to the penthouse.

This night has escalated so quickly that Archie’s finding it hard to believe that this is actually his life. When he put on his blazer earlier on and got an Uber with Kevin to pick Betty up and take her to the dance, he would have never imagined that Veronica Lodge – the girl he had been writing songs about, the girl who was  _possibly_ involved with someone else, the girl that broke his friend’s heart and his teammate’s heart and that now was probably going to break his, too – would be tugging at it in an elevator, while they were going up to yet another penthouse.

They had been kissing in the limo since they left Cheryl’s building, and it’s something they apparently do now – they kiss. She really,  _really_ knows how to do it, knows how to slide her tongue against his, knows how to bite his lower lip in the appropriate moment, knows how to rip out sounds from the bottom of his throat.

“Okay,” she says in a breathy voice, putting her hand between their faces, over his mouth, when the elevator stops with a bell, and the doors slide open. “Okay, shh. We’ll sneak in, okay?”

Archie can’t help but hold her wrist and pull her arm down until there’s nothing between their mouths again and he can kiss her one more time, going down her chin and her jawline. “We could stay here, too,” he says, finding the bone right behind her ear, and he feels her shivering.

“C’mon,” she pushes him a little, hands on his chest, and he really doesn’t want to face another few feet with his hands away from her body but has no choice but to follow her into the foyer.

When she opens the door Archie notices that the living room is very dark, and the only lights are coming from the floor-length windows and the city outside. The whole place is actually very quiet, and Veronica carefully takes off her high heels before walking in, leaving them by the door. She’s a lot smaller than him without her heels on, one head height difference, but it just makes him find her even more attractive, if that was even possible.

He mimics her, taking off his black Converse, taking them with him when she grabs his hand and leads him down a corridor. There’s light coming out from under two out of three closed doors, quiet voices from one of them. Veronica takes him to the room that’s dark and silent, cautiously getting inside it. She’s so quiet that Archie can only guess how often she took people home right under her parents’ nose – imagines that if he’s ever lucky enough to spend the night, she’ll have a whole technique for sneaking him out in the morning, too.

She doesn’t say a word when she locks the door behind her, and Archie has no time to adjust his sight to the darkness before she meets his lips with hers again, wrapping her arms around his neck, probably tip-toeing to reach him. He can’t see, but he can envision her legs’ muscles tightening up with this movement, and sighs into their kiss, pulling her closer to him by the hips.

Veronica slides her hands down his neck until they reach his lapels and  pushes them to the side. Archie pulls his arms back, so she can take his blazer off, their mouths only an inch apart. There are no sounds in the room except for their panting, and it’s like they’re back in the closet, except now the door is locked and there’s no Reggie and there’s probably a bed around  _oh, holy shit._

Her feet are down to the ground again, and Archie must lower his body even more, to keep on kissing her. He wraps one hand around her waist for support. Her fingers are now playing with the buttons on his shirt, and she’s making tiny little sounds between breaths that are leading all his blood down to his lower abdomen. He has never kissed someone like this before, not even Geraldine. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before, too. There’s something about Veronica that gets him completely lightheaded, that makes him wonder if he’s still drunk.

She breaks the kiss, opening one button of his shirt, and then another, her mouth traveling down his chin and on to his neck. Her fingernail scrapes the skin on the center of his chest, just above the third button that she could open, and her teeth on his neck make him feel daring, letting his hands run the side of her body all the way up her breasts. She sucks on the skin next to his jugular, breathing in, and Archie takes it as a sign that he can go on. He cups her breasts, feeling how they fit perfectly in his palms, and brushes his thumb gently over one of her hard-peaked nipples.

Veronica makes a small sound, and she opens another button, and then another, until his shirt is completely open. Her mouth is still on his neck, while one of Archie’s hands goes a little bit higher, reaching the strapless neckline and the soft skin of her chest, and his fingers slide down under the fabric until he can cup her breast. nd  _fuck_ , she’s not wearing a bra. He presses her nipple very gently between his fingers, and her hands are suddenly sinking into his hair, pulling him into another kiss.

 _“I’ll be waiting for the rest of it,”_ a strong male’s voice says; it’s loud and clear. And for the second time that night, Veronica pushes him away from her, and even in the dark, Archie can see how  _scared_ she looks all of sudden.  _“You know they won’t do any runs if they don’t get paid, Hiram.”_

“Oh, my God,” Veronica whispers, and she walks towards the door to open a small crack, trying to see whatever was going down the hallway. Archie can see very little from where he stands – two men facing each other, one of them wearing a leather jacket.

 _“Half now, half then. You know how it goes, FP,”_ the other man says, and Veronica downright  _freezes_ when she hears that name. She even gasps.  _“Don’t let them forget who’s keeping you all out of jail.”_

 _“I can’t make you any promises, jefe,”_ FP, the guy in the leather jacket, goes on. Archie is not stupid – he’s seen enough Netflix to know that this was a talk that wasn’t supposed to be heard, and by the way Veronica is holding her breath, she knows that too. Archie can feel her strong heartbeat from where he’s standing behind her.  _“But I’ll pass the message, don’t worry. I’ll find myself out.”_

 _“Don’t be seen by anyone,”_ Hiram, who Archie can only deduce is Veronica’s father, says.  _“Always a pleasure, my friend.”_

Veronica jolts back when that man, FP, walks right by her room. When he disappears, she returns to the door, and Archie follows her, watching as the man walks down the corridor. He can see that there’s a print on the back of the leather jacket, the bright image of a two-headed snake stitched on it.

There’s movement in the hallway; a door opens. Hiram says something like  _“I gave him half of it,”_  to someone else, and then his voice disappears as the door closes.

“You need to go,” Veronica whispers, opening her door completely. Archie squints his eyes against the hallway’s light. She looks left and then right, and now that he can actually  _see_ her, it’s different from before, with Cheryl and Reggie – her chin is not up, and her shoulders are shrunk, like a scared stray animal whose fight has left its body, “Seriously,” she says, getting his shoes and jacket, and pushing them against his chest. His shirt is still open, “You need to leave  _now_.”

“Ronnie,” he tries, guardedly, to keep his voice as low as possible – he even reaches out to touch her arm, but she takes a step back before he can do it; his hand is left hanging in the air, holding onto nothing. “What’s going on? Who is this guy?”

“Archie, please,” she looks up at him. He heaves a sigh, because there’s something in her eyes that he has only seen once – in his mother, when she heard about him and Geraldine. She’s  _terrified_. “Just go."

 

 

 

 

After having breakfast – fruit, yogurt, muesli, all prepared and served by their maid on their pristine mahogany table – like a good little girl and giving her parents’ pointed smiles and answers (lies) about the dance and the party at Thornhill, Veronica excuses herself.

She hasn’t slept. Images from last night – Reggie and that girl, Cheryl’s face when she called Betty her best friend, Archie’s blood, and Archie’s mouth – keep running through her brain, but that symbol on that leather jacket hovers above, and her body can’t keep up.

She goes to the bathroom and throws up everything she’s eaten, a headache pounding on her temples.

A Southside Serpent. FP Jones, Jughead’s father, was a Southside Serpent. And  _her father_ was hiring his services, after firing him from Lodge Industries’. Veronica sits on the toilet, her head between her hands, and takes some deep breaths. She knew her parents were involved with something bad, but she didn’t know they were involved with  _this_.

(Because for all the fantasies about a traditional motorcycle club from the south part of Chicago,  _everybody_  knew the truth: those guys were nothing but  _drug dealers_. Drug dealers her father was  _paying_ to do  _runs_.)

She commands herself to  _calm the fuck down_  and decides to take a quick shower while she plans what to do next. She needs to be whatever her mother thinks Lodge women are – a  _strategist_ , a lioness – and think this through.

Veronica gets dressed very carefully, blow dries her hair and hides all signs of tiredness with makeup. She comes back to the dining room and asks if she can go meet the girls. Her parents don’t even glance up from the paper they are reading – not the Chicago Sun-Times – almost in sync. Her mother says they expect her to be back for dinner time.

She calls an Uber and watches the grey lake pass by through the window as the car heads south.

 

 

 

 

Washington Park feels like it belongs to a completely different city. There’s trash on the gutters, plastic bags dancing with the wind; the lake is long left behind, and there are no extravagant buildings or illuminated shops, only small houses with two or three families sharing them, one on each floor if they’re lucky, gardens built of tall grass.

The Uber driver is probably curious about what a  _nice girl_ like her is even doing in a place like that. He doesn’t argue when she asks him to stop at some coffee shop – there was only a Dunkin’ Donuts venue – so she can arrive at her destination carrying some peace offering. He, thankfully, also doesn’t ask anything, but he watches Veronica through the rear-view mirror, watches her fidgety legs crossed.

They reach the Jones’ house. She still remembers when her father casually told her the Jones had moved to the southside. She still remembers waking up in the middle of the night, so she could  _search_ for their address until she found it; she still remembers asking (bribing) Andre to drive her down there, just so she could see with her bare eyes – a two-story cheap house he and his whole family shared with another family.

Veronica wonders what Archie Andrews would say if he knew that her family was responsible for putting another family in a place like  _this_. She wonders if he’d kiss her like he did, if he’d still look at her the same way. She still can’t believe he heard FP and her father talking the night before, she still can’t believe Archie now  _knows_ there’s something bad surrounding her. A fucking  _run_ , paid by her father to a  _gangster_  who is also one of her oldest… _friend’s? acquaintance’s?_ father.

She inhales deeply before ringing the bell. She brought  _four_ cups of coffee, in case FP or Gladys Jones are home, and even a donut for Jellybean; she already made up in her mind some bullshit about studying together if needed. She knows Jughead doesn’t want her help, wants  _nothing_ to do with her, but she also can’t leave him out of this.

It doesn’t take long for someone to open the door – and what a relief it is to see that it's Jughead, beanie-less for once, raven hair sticking up, with a sleepy face and his customary S-ensigned t-shirt. He frowns immediately when he sees her.

“Veronica?” he asks, staring at her in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I brought coffee.” She raises the tray with the four paper cups on it, but she doesn’t smile, and neither does he. “For your parents too, if they’re at home. I just need five minutes of your time and it’s not about the college thing – it’s important. Like,  _really_ important.”

Jughead looks at her from head to toe, obviously suspicious, but she keeps gaping firmly into his face, wishing that all those years were worth something and that he can, somehow, read her and understand when she’s really just trying to reach out. He sighs, finally, and then gives her space to enter his house. “I’m alone,” he says, and he sounds tired. “Come in.”

 

 

 

 

Archie wasn’t wrong in his expectations: his face hurts like a bitch when he wakes up. His mother and Jeffrey are apparently not home this morning, and he even barges into their room, more specifically their bathroom, and searches around for his mother’s makeup, aware that there are some products girls use to hide stuff on their faces. He finds it, too – it’s thick and creamy, and it matches his complexion well – but he has no idea of how to use it properly; it hurts too much when he touches his face, and he ends up with something even worse than what he had to begin with. Archie gives up, at a certain point – there was no way he could hide the cut with that stuff or the swelling.

“Fuck,” he thinks and says, staring at the mirror. He looks like a poster child for trouble, with that dirty band-aid and his skin acquiring a new shade of purple every time he glances away. He finds two aspirins and downs them with some water, hoping to at least diminish.

His phone is a white elephant staring at him while he eats cereal, sitting on the couch. Betty has said  _good morning_  in their group chat with Kevin and Jughead, but none of the boys have answered. The Mustangs’ group chat, the one he was added to a week ago, is completely silent. There’s only one text that probably needs his attention, but he can’t bring himself up to even read it again (it was the first thing he did in the morning, and it had already ruined his day.)

 _You screwed up big time,_ Jason Blossom had written.  _I’m not saying that what Reggie did was right, but I told you she was off-limits, man. And then leaving with her? Yes, everybody saw it. How can I defend you to the guys now?_

The worst part is: Archie wants to tell Jason that he’s sorry. He wants to say that it was a mistake and that it won’t happen again. He wants to say how much he values his and the other guys’ friendship and support. But now he’s thinking about Veronica –  _again_ , as if last night wasn’t embarrassing enough, not being able to shut his mind up after going to bed, and taking a cold shower in the middle of the night instead of giving in to what his body wanted, because when he left she was so  _frightened_ and vulnerable and he just wanted to  _help her_ – he just can’t, can’t bring himself to text Jason back, can’t bring himself to say it meant nothing.

Archie washes the breakfast dishes that were piling up in the sink and tidies up the kitchen and his room, hoping that these gestures will soften his mother’s reaction when she sees his face.

He’s installing his video game in the living room’s television, preparing himself for inevitably being grounded for the rest of his life, when Mary and Jeffrey arrive, some bags in hand, and smiles that fade as soon as they notice what is going on with Archie’s eye.

“Ouch.” It’s Jeffrey who says this. Mary has dropped her bags  _and her jaw_.

“Archie!” she says, running to him.he touches his face tenderly, so she can check his wounds, he’s even a little staggered. “Oh, my God, are you okay? How did this happen?”

“This guy punched me,” he says, honestly, because he has no other option. Archie has always been a terrible liar; it still surprises him how long he managed to keep his relationship with Geraldine a secret. “It’s not that bad.”

“Are you kidding me? Should we take him to the hospital?” Mary asks Jeffrey, a little breathy. His stepfather comes closer to also check the bruises, and thankfully, Jeffrey just shrugs.

“Nah, the kid will be alright. How did that happen, buddy?” Jeffrey pats his shoulder, looking a little amused. “Insulted someone’s mother or kissed someone’s girl?”

Archie can’t help but snort, raising two fingers so he can answer with the latter. Mary gasps, and Jeffrey laughs a little, giving him another pat on the shoulder, this time a little stronger, and then goes to their room, leaving Archie and his mother alone.

“Well, what you did wasn’t right, but that’s no reason for punching someone in the face,” Mary says, running her fingers through Archie’s hair, and the little boy in him almost leans into the touch. “ _Who_ did that to you? I’m sure Principal Wetherbee will love to hear everything about how their students are fist-fighting during the school danc–”

“It wasn’t at the school dance,” Archie says. “It happened at that party I texted you about.”

“Okay.” Mary says, quietly, still touching him like he’s something precious, and then she begins, very carefully, “And this girl – she’s your age, right?”

“Oh, my God, Mom,” Archie jumps back from her touch, “why are you even asking me this?!” He frowns.

And there it is – that look on her face again, the one that never fails to make him feel like shit. “The last time you got hurt for kissing someone else’s girl, she was a woman my age, with a husband…”

“I don’t need to hear this.” He gets up, angrily, getting as far away from her as the room size allows. “Will you  _ever_ let this go? I’m doing everything you asked me to!”

“Archie, you go out one weekend and you come back beaten. This sort of behavior – I can’t recognize you, and I’m pretty sure this is happening because –”

“Maybe you can’t recognize me because you don’t know who I am! Have you ever thought about that? You left me!” He can’t look at his mother anymore, so he just heads towards the door, ignoring anything she might have to say. “I’m going to Kevin’s.”

“Archibald, I did not give you permission to leave this apart–”

Archie knows it won’t do him any good in the near (or distant) future, but it sure feels good to slam the door in his mother’s face.

 

 

 

 

Since the other Joneses weren’t at home, Veronica and Jughead drink two cups of coffee each, while they sit face to face at the counter that separates the small kitchen from the living room. The family that lives on the second floor keeps walking around with  _thumping_  noises. Veronica can see, in her peripheral vision, a trash bag that looks to be full of empty bottles. The whole place smells  _sticky_ , like beer and testosterone.

Jughead looks down at his hands encircling one of the Dunkin’ Donuts’ paper cups. “Are you sure?”

It’s the third time he asks this. In fact, it’s the only thing he’s asked so far, after she told him everything she saw the night before. Veronica sighs. She’s tired, too. “Does it make any sense to you?”

Jughead inhales deeply, and holds his breath for a while, like he’s trying to push words he wants to say back inside. “I wish it didn’t,” he says, finally exhaling. “He showed up the other day with a fucking motorcycle.” He kind of snorts, “I said,  _dad, you’re still unemployed. Are you sure this is the best time?_ like the fucking idiot I am. It never occurred to me that he’d be involved with something like… I mean, I thought he was just trying to feel better about this shit.”

“It makes sense when you put the pieces together,” Veronica says. “I always thought my dad fired yours because of that bullshit Alice Cooper wrote, but if my father needed someone to get closer to the south community, to  _infiltrate_ a fucking gang…”

“The timing was perfect,” Jughead completes, the little vein on his forehead jumping a little, something that happened to his face ever since he was just a kid. “They used the Chicago Sun-Times scandal as a cover-up, and my father moved us here to mark territory to yours.”

“I’m sorry, Jughead.” Veronica runs a hand through her hair. “I’m so sorry, I never thought our parents would be involved in this kind of– What can we do? What  _will_ we do?”

“We need to lay low, okay?” Jughead says, squeezing the empty paper cup. “Let’s pretend we don’t know anything. I’m going to find out what this gang is about – what role my father has in it, how deep he is in with them – and you need to find out what  _exactly_ is your father trying to  _run_. Drugs? Guns? Organs?”

Veronica’s stomach twists, almost tricking her again “Jesus Christ.”

They keep quiet for a moment, both trying to digest the things they had figured out. The night before, with Archie and his curious hands, his tongue tasting like tequila and cranberry juice, seems so long ago. She wanted to relish his skin and remember how it felt, but she couldn’t – that snake on FP Jones’ back and Jughead’s tired eyes were heavier than it all.

She feels stupid for thinking she’d be able to control her parents from inside out, but then again, she believed they were only laundering money or something like that, which yes, would be bad, but not  _that_ bad. She also feels stupid for even going to that party, for giving them time to do things right under her nose.

Jughead must feel stupid too. She can see it on his face. Carefully, she decides to ask, even though she already knows the answer, “Does anyone else know you’re living… here?”

He shakes his head, not looking at her. “In the Southside, yeah. But not in this house. I want to tell Betty,” he adds, quickly, as if he’s forgotten how distant Betty and Veronica are now, “but I still…”

“I get it,” she says, quietly, and then remembers something that makes her chuckle. “She thinks we’re having an affair.”

Jughead looks at her, flabbergasted. “She thinks  _what_?”

“Strikes me dumb as well.” She scowls at Jughead, who seems completely taken aback. “Apparently, that morning you went to my place to scream at me?” Veronica raises an eyebrow, and Jughead nods, slowly, not feeling any guilt towards it. “Smithers told her that you came by.”

And then, it’s like something  _clicks_ for him, because his expression turns into one that’s somewhat amused. “It wasn’t Smithers,” he says. “She has this new friend, Archie Andrews? A tall, redheaded goof,” there’s laughter in his voice, and Veronica bites her lower lip slightly, suddenly not understanding  _what_ Archie – who is a lot more now than just Betty’s new friend – has to do with it. “Do you know him?”

 _Isn’t life funny?_ She can still taste him in her mouth. “Yeah.”

“He was in the lobby, that day. I bumped into him. I think he wanted to see Betty, or something, and he caught me by surprise. He probably figured I was sneaking out from your place and told Betty,” he snorts.

And all of a sudden, the memory of Archie’s taste turns sour in Veronica’s mouth.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you’ll either hate me or love me for that. no middle ground, lol. you knew they were going to kiss last chapter, did you know things will continue in this one? i bet i surprised you.
> 
> we finally see jughead again, and he’s stirring things up without meaning to. now, veronica knows archie is the one who told betty about the ~affair. what will happen? if someone’s lost about the whole hiram/fp plot, i am explaining it bit by bit throughout the chapters. i recommend you guys keep rereading the other chapters so you can try to put all the pieces together, at least that’s my intention!
> 
> i’ve got 60 (SIXTY!!! SESSENTA!!!) comments on last chapter and i can’t even believe it. my life has been crazy, i was in six countries in less than a month (jesus) but now i’m back to brazil for a little longer and i can finally rest. anyway, what i’m saying is that i wouldn’t have survived this crazy month without you, so thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> song at the beggining is "the beach" by the neighborhood.


	11. Chapter 11

_i can't get my head around it, i keep feeling smaller and smaller_

 

 

 

Archie’s small tantrum doesn’t get him to Kevin’s, only gets him grounded for the rest of the weekend, complete with a phone call from his father that makes him feel even worse.

“There are only so many chances your mother and I can give you before you blow them all,” Fred says before hanging up, and suddenly all the fight leaves Archie’s body; he spends most of the following days in his room, icing his face without complaining.

He’s a little worried about how silent his phone remains throughout all of Sunday. In his group chat with his friends, no one has answered Betty’s  _good morning_  from the day before; Kevin is completely MIA, and Jason has ignored the  _Can we talk on Monday?_ half-baked answer Archie came up with.

But he’s even more worried about Veronica. He doesn’t have her number. So, he  _finally_ adds her on Facebook and Instagram and waits to be added back so he can send her a message, but the response doesn’t come. Of course, he wants to know where they stand, but even more important than that is to make sure that she’s alright. But he can’t leave the loft and go to her place, he surely can’t ask about her to anyone he knows.

He’s so nervous he can’t even play his guitar, so he just waits, resigned, for Monday to come.

 

 

 

 

It does, eventually. Archie waits for Kevin at the bus stop, headphones on ears even if there’s no music playing, and his legs jittery. He’s dying to face anything that’s  _familiar_  (and, hopefully, not disappointed with him) – but when Kevin arrives, he does so holding a skinny, blonde guy’s hand, and they’re both laughing at something. Kevin pinches the side of the guy’s body; the guy slaps him flirtatiously, and Archie wants to  _hide_ when he remembers that this is probably Betty’s older brother.

There’s no hiding, though. Kevin has already seen him, and already stopped dead in his tracks as he takes in what happened to Archie’s face. “Oh, my God,” Kevin’s mouth hangs open, and the blonde guy curiously looks from one boy to the other. “Archibald, who the hell happened to your f–”

“You still don’t know?” Archie interrupts him, legitimately confused.

Kevin looks disconcerted for a second. “Well, I had a busy weekend.” His eyebrows raise pointedly towards the blonde, who looks a little amused. “So,” he clears up his throat, “Archie, this is Betty’s brother, Chic. And Chic, this is Archie, he goes to school with me and your sister.”

“Not that I don’t dig a bad boy, but should I tell you to stay away from Betty?” Chic asks, shaking Archie’s hand, but there’s laughter in his voice; Archie feels his cheek heat up. As if it wasn’t enough to have a black-eye, he needed a red face to go along with it.

“Oh, please,” Kevin says, resting a hand on Chic’s lower back, as the bus they need to catch gets closer to the stop, “Archibald here is nothing but prince charming. Will you call me later?”

“You bet,” Chic leans in to kiss Kevin quickly, and he smiles flirtatiously to Archie before saying, "Nice to meet you, prince charming,” making Kevin snort.

But as soon as they board the bus, Kevin’s expression changes, and he punches Archie’s arm with more strength than needed. “How  _dare you_  hide something like that from me?!”

“Hey, you were the one who didn’t check in with your  _little birds_  all weeke–  _ow,_ ” he adds when Kevin punches him again.

“Spill!”

Archie heaves a breath, as they both find seats in the back of the bus, tries to find the right words to explain to Kevin what really went down on Friday night. “You remember I told you that I was… Kind of, maybe, into Veronica Lodge?”

“Oh, my God.” Kevin looks like a kid, almost jumping on his seat. “And? Oh, my God, did  _Jughead_ punch you?”

“What?” Archie burrows his brows together – with everything that’s happened, he almost forgot about the possible Jughead-Veronica situation. It only gets him more nervous, “ _No_ , it was – look. I was talking to her at the dance. You saw that, right?”

“Yes, I remember you two cozying up in the bleachers,” Kevin says, and Archie’s ears feel like fire. “Right before Cheryl Blossom coxed you to the dancefloor.”

“I went to her party. I had some tequila, and we were dancing. She and Veronica were fighting about God knows what, and I don’t know, I guess I took Veronica’s side,” Archie sighs. He might have been a little drunk, but he remembers it perfectly, the way the purple lights were hitting her features, the sheen on her lips around the straw. “She showed me around the penthouse, and…”

“Did you kiss her?” Archie nods. “Did she kiss you back?” Kevin’s jaw has dropped to the floor. Archie scratches the back of his head, and commands himself not to think about  _any of it_ \-- about kissing Veronica or about her dress under his fingertips or the sounds on the bottom of her throat, or… “This is riveting.” Kevin rests one hand on Archie’s shoulder, the other against his own chest, and it thankfully interrupts Archie’s train of thought. “I can’t breathe.”

“Well,” he clears up his throat, “neither could I when Reggie found us.” He points to his own face.

“Of course,” Kevin rolls his eyes, “hypocritically punching people. Sounds just like Reggie Mantle.”

Archie feels some weight coming off of his shoulder, something he didn’t even know he was carrying until it was gone; at least  _someone_ didn’t think he was a traitor for breaking the Mustang’s bro-code. “What’s up between them anyway? You just told me they used to date.”

“Well,” Kevin begins, “It was pretty serious. Reggie was – well, he was just like he is right now, a fucking mess, before her. They were together for two years, until this summer. No one knows what happened, only that Reggie dumped her, which sounded _weird_ , because that boy was..” he pauses. “Well, he was head over heels for her. Completely crazy about her, that’s for sure.”

“And she?” Archie asks, realizing that he’s a little nervous, that uncomfortable feeling resting at the bottom of his throat again.

The look Kevin gives Archie is almost a little careful, like he’s afraid the wrong words could upset him. “She definitely loved him right back,” he says; it is exactly what Archie didn’t want to hear, but at least it’s the truth. “That’s probably over, now, though.”

Archie ends up looking into the distance, out onto the street passing them by, and it’s quiet for longer than he intended it to be. “Yeah,” he finally says, almost into a sigh, “probably.”

 

 

 

 

Her parents – who, of course, knew she would re-approach them about her role in Lodge Industries the moment the weekend was over – had left the penthouse even before she finished her shower. Her phone has been buzzing non-stop since she left the party on Friday, but she has decided to ignore everything that’s happening  _online_ and face the consequences of her actions in person, fearless and proud, which is why Veronica chooses her deepest dark lipstick, a shade called Berry Mojito, to wear on her lips on Monday.

She walks down the hallway in her highest heels, ignoring the obvious whispering forming itself as she heads towards the lockers. Her first dragon of the day is there, like Veronica knew she should be, all fire and sharp edges, red hair falling down her back in perfect waves as she fiddles around with her locker.

Ginger and Tina are there too, but they immediately leave when they notice Veronica drawing near them. Cheryl, however, doesn’t even look, her face partially covered by her locker door. “If it isn’t the closet monster.”

“Cheryl,” Veronica crosses her arms in front of her chest, “I have no interest in being caught to death in a catfight with you. Can we  _please_  just talk about it?”

“I don’t know, Veronica. What’s there to talk about?” Cheryl opens her mouth as she adds yet another coat of cherry red lipstick to her lips, staring at the little mirror hung on her locker’s door. Her voice has reached a higher pitched tune, and Veronica  _knows_ what it means. “Should we begin with how you’ve been lying to me all summer? Or with how you might have been lying to me for  _two years._  Since even after everything I did for you, you still think Betty Cooper is your best friend?”

There’s really no easy way out of this. Veronica takes in a deep breath, resting one of her shoulders against the lockers. “I didn’t tell you that I was the one breaking up with Reggie because you would’ve asked me so many questions; it would have made  _me_ question it, and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to back down, to change my mind.”

“Of course,” Cheryl recaps the lipstick with a  _click_ , and starts collecting books and other things, “it’s all very classic Veronica Lodge- _esque_ , isn’t it? You can’t stand to hear anything you don’t  _want_ to hear. You want to keep fooling yourself, so you just lie about it. For two whole months. Meanwhile, like an idiot, I’m giving up all my summer plans to be by your side and comfort you.”

Cheryl is not  _wrong_ , she just doesn’t  _know_ ; she can’t  _grasp_ the bigger picture – Cheryl didn’t spend her summer comforting Veronica  _for nothing_ ; she  _needed_ the comfort. Breaking up with Reggie was not easy, nor did it come out of nowhere; it was a carefully thought-through choice that considered every possible variable (except, of course, Archie Andrews’ existence).

Veronica bites down on her lower lip. “Cher,” she touches Cheryl’s wrist, making the redhead look at her, “you were going with me to Switzerland even when Reggie was still in the picture.” Veronica tries a smile. “And I’m sorry for not telling you, okay? I was just –”

“Would you have told Betty?” Cheryl interrupts her, pulling her arm away from Veronica’s hand. Her eyebrows are a little raised up, but Veronica can see them trembling for the slightest moment. Her brown eyes are shining just a little bit more, and Veronica is a little taken aback by the question and the sight.

“This is beyond irrelev–”

“It really is  _not_ , Veronica. You used to tell Betty everything before it all blew up on your face. Was it because you trusted her more than you trust me, or because she just accepted all of your bullshit?”

It stings, making Veronica lean away from the locker and tilt her head up. “Maybe it’s because she wouldn’t have dealt  with  _my_ problems like they were about  _her_ ,” she says, and Cheryl braces herself on the locker’s edge, long manicured fingers against the cold, red metal. “I wasn’t  _faking_ my heartbreak; it was real. I broke up with Reggie because he was making all those plans about going to California and being together and getting away from my parents, and I can’t just–” Veronica stops. All of this is just too real, but it doesn’t really matter, it’s not what this is about. “Betty would have listened to me, and I miss having someone who  _listens_ to me.”

“Well, I’m listening, Veronica, and all I’m hearing is you still trying to come up with excuses for yourself. So maybe I’m not suited to be your best friend after all.” Cheryl closes her locker door with a  _bang_. “At least I’m off the hook.”

“Cheryl, c’mon,” Veronica tries, but Cheryl swirls around on her heels and walks away. Veronica holds her breath.

 _Great._ Dragons,  _one_. Veronica,  _zero_.

 

 

 

 

Archie spends the whole morning on the verge, sure he would be the newest Northside Prep’s  _persona non-grata_ and that all the friendliness people showed him last week would dissipate into thin air. But, aside from some whisperings and very quiet laughter, people seemed to be minding their own business, and if anyone says anything, it’s just Kevin, who sits with him in English class.

“Okay, I did some damage control, so now everybody knows you guys  _didn’t do it_ , even though you left together,” he whispers, while the teacher is having some melodramatic insight on The Great Gatsby. “But why, again, didn’t you do it?”

“I told you already,” except he didn’t. He didn’t tell Kevin  _exactly_ what went down at the Pembrooke on Friday night, about how his shirt was half-opened, and Veronica’s teeth were on his neck, or about how his hands were on her body when her father and that other man, FP, started talking about things that obviously no one should learn of. He wanted to ask Kevin if he knew that man, or if he knew Veronica’s father, but this wasn’t like the thing with Betty and Jughead – he owed her something, now, and he shouldn’t be talking about whatever happened with anyone. Archie fixates his eyes on the teacher, with the best poker face he can put together. “Her father showed up, and she panicked.”

“Veronica Lodge panicked,” Kevin repeats, resting his chin on his hand, and his elbow on the table. Archie knows that he doesn’t believe him. They both stare at the teacher as if they knew exactly what the green light metaphor meant. “Well, if you say so.”

 

 

 

 

Archie doesn’t see Veronica, as much as he looks for her in the hallways (he doesn’t see Reggie, either, which gets him  _just a little bit_ worried, but he shakes it off). They only have Biology, History and French together, and those classes didn’t start until Wednesday. It would have been nice to meet her between classes, though, to find out if she was okay, to lock his eyes with hers in recognition, to see if she’s with him in the whole  _I don’t regret my actions_ path he’s taking.

Yet, the consequences of his actions  _do_ show in little bits and pieces as the day goes by.

His first hint is when Steve, one of his teammates, ignores his  _hey_ when they bump into each other by the drinking fountain. He keeps thinking maybe Steve just didn’t hear him, but then Moose’s shoulder crashes into his as he walks down the hallway on his way to the music room.

“Watch it, dick,” Moose, who has always been nice to him, says, eyebrows flying towards his hairline. Archie frowns and ends up apologizing even if he  _clearly_ avoided the collision.

The next hint comes when he gets to the music room. Josie and the other two girls that sang with her at the back-to-school dance, Valerie and Melody, are there, practicing some acapella breathing exercises, and Archie manages to watch and admire their range for exactly two minutes before they notice his presence. The three of them look nervously at each other, talking fast in low voices, and then Josie stands up, hands joined together in front of her stomach.

“Hey, girls.” Archie smiles a little bit, his ears getting instantly red, because the three of them were really pretty. “Josie, I was wondering if you talked to Mr. Stuart about me joining the–”

“I did,” she says, almost immediately, and the girls behind her watch as she takes careful steps towards Archie, “and, unfortunately, it’s not gonna happen.”

“Wha–” Archie grimaces, “But last week you said that you–”

“I said I was going to talk to him,” she interrupts him again, but now her voice is firmer like she doesn’t really enjoy being vexed, “and I did. It’s not gonna happen.”

“What?! C’mon, Josie. I really need all the extracurriculars I can g–”

“Oh, my God,” Valerie stands, placing both hands in Josie’s arms as if she was going to back her friend up, “she said Mr. Stuart didn’t approve your participation. Can you leave now? This is a private rehearsal.”

 

 

 

 

“Hm, Josie is friends with Veronica,” Kevin tells him as they fill their trays in the cafeteria. The weather sucks, windy and grey – it looks like it’s going to rain, and the students retreat indoors instead of using the courtyard. “So, I don’t think it’s retaliation for  _that_. You did say there was some drama going on between V and Cheryl, though? Maybe they took Cheryl’s side? I don’t know,” Kevin sighs, examining one apple before placing it on his tray, “and I hate not knowing. I’m never having a fuck-a-thon during a party weekend again.”

Betty joins them at the table, and the look on her face gives away that he’s about to have another hint of how he screwed up on Friday night. “Thanks for the head’s up, Archie,” she says, and she sounds a bit like his mother sounded the whole weekend. “It was really great to know that you had sex with Veronica through the tutors’ group chat.”

“I didn’t –” he starts, food turning bland as he chews it, immediately turning to Kevin, “What about your damage control?”

“I have no access the tutors’ chat.” Kevin raises both his hands, and Archie runs his fingers through his hair, heaving a breath. “It’s not  _my fault_ that you left the party with h–”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were into her?” Betty asks, green eyes piercing through him. “Did you make that stuff about her and Jughead up because you saw them together and you were  _jealous_?”

“ _Jesus_ , Betty. No,” Archie puts his sandwich back on the plate, cleaning his hands on a napkin, “I  _did_ see Jughead at your building that morning, and I saw her texting him too. But I wasn’t trying to – look, I didn’t  _know_ things were going to go that way between us, okay? It caught me off guard too, if you haven’t noticed.” He points at his own face. He has looked in the mirror between classes, and the black-eye was giving its name some justice.

Her eyes end up softening a bit – it’s like she has just seen the bruise on his face. Betty’s mouth forms a pout and she starts picking at the food on her plate. “It would’ve been nice to know about it from you, that’s all.”

Just like in the hallway with Moose, Archie ends up apologizing for nothing. He knows that his big test comes along with basketball practice, where he has to face Reggie, Jason, and all the Mustangs and their book of honor. A little part of him wants to  _skip it_ , to go straight to Ms. Baker’s office and ask her what  _she_  thought of all this.

But even though Archie is a lot of things, he has never been a coward.

“I should get going. Coach Clayton wants to talk to me before practice. Wish me luck?” he asks Betty when the bell rings, as she follows his movements with her eyes when he gets up, and readies himself to head down to the gym.

She looks at him almost with fondness. “Don’t get punched again.”

 

 

 

 

“Yesterday, they hid under that  _no-work-on-the-weekends_ bullshit, and of course they knew I’d bring it up today, so they left before I could talk to them,” Veronica holds the phone with her shoulder, as she needs both hands to open the yogurt cup lid, “You bet they won’t be home until very late tonight. They think I’ll forget about it.”

She’s mostly alone in the student lounge, sharing its couches only with a couple of students that she hardly recognizes. She wasn’t  _hiding_ by not having her lunch at the cafeteria – except for Archie, who she genuinely didn’t bump into, and her parents, who weren’t there at all, her dragons had all crossed her path.

Cheryl did win the first round, but the redhead also looked miserable throughout the entire day, which suited her well – she was the one who decided to walk away and dwell on her pride.

Reggie, though, was Veronica’s biggest triumph of the day. He sat across the room from her during calculus, and he was staring at her so openly that, at some point, the teacher asked if he had lost something in her face. Veronica took the opportunity to stare back, one eyebrow pointedly raised, and the whole class laughed when someone whispered,  _“just his dignity.”_

(Veronica wasn’t sure if the comment was meant to be offensive towards her to him, but she chose to believe it was him. She had nothing to be ashamed of, she hadn’t  _punched_ anyone in the face out of nowhere.)

So, she wasn’t hiding. It was almost raining outside, the cafeteria would be packed, and she needed a quiet place to speak on the phone about things more urgent and more important than who-kissed-who on Friday night.

“Yeah, my dad was the same,” she hears Jughead’s annoyed huff on the other side of the line, “He left freakishly early today, and he normally sleeps until noon. Do you think they might have seen you on Friday?”

She pours the yogurt onto the fruit salad, mixes it all with a plastic fork, “No, I’m positive they didn’t,” she says, breathy. She hasn’t decided if she will tell Jughead the other  _little detail_ , that she wasn’t exactly alone when she overheard their parents talking; a part of her wanted to talk to Archie about it first, another wanted to forget the unforgettable and pretend he wasn’t even there with her, “Did you run into any…” she looks around, lowers her voice, “ _Serpents_  yet?”

“There’s this guy,” Jughead answers in his normal voice, because obviously, in Southside High, talking about gangsters wasn’t so odd as it would be in Northside Prep, “He’s in my English class, and he wears a Prospect cut. I’m not really sure what that means, but I’m guessing he’s the one I have to get closer to.”

“What’s his name?” Veronica asks, around a mouthful of strawberry.

“Sweet Pea,”  _now_ he lowers his voice. Veronica chuckles, “Don’t ask me about it. Someone probably bullied him into the nickname, too.”

She rolls her eyes, and is thinking about a comeback, when she sees Valerie walking into the lounge, books on hand and an expression that hardens up when she sees her, “Listen, I gotta go,” she whispers into the phone, knowing that the last thing that could happen was someone to find out she was spending her lunch break talking to  _Jughead Jones_ on the phone, “Keep me posted about Sweet Beans or something.”

“This sounds really gross,” Jughead says, before hanging up, and Veronica has time to keep her phone in her bag just in time for Valerie to get closer with a half-hearted smile on her glossed lips.

“Val, hey!” Veronica tries, chirpy, pointing at the empty couch across from her, “Where are the other girls?”

“With… Cheryl, at the cafeteria,” Valerie breathes, sitting on the couch and placing her books on the coffee table between them. Veronica scowls, briefly, “How does that work, love? First, we can’t talk to Betty because she was a bitch to you, and now this thing between you and Cheryl…”

“Wait a minute,” Veronica raises a hand, her eyebrows close together, “I  _never_ asked any of you not to talk to Betty on my account, if anyone did that, it was Cheryl, who’s also the one who’s interested in being caught up in this. I’ve tried to apologize earlier this morning, and she wouldn’t listen,” she digs her fork into another piece of fruit, “My hands are clean.”

“Are they, though?” Val asks in a very patient, but also very patronizing voice, and Veronica grinds her teeth together, looking up, “Cheryl was bragging about the new guy since he  _stepped_ into this school, and now she’s going on and on about how you… Hum, kissed him on purpose.”

Veronica makes a face, “The only  _purpose_ I had for kissing him was kissing him,” she frowns. Of course, this was mainly her fault. If she hadn’t kept her…  _thing_ with Archie to herself, if she had told anyone about how his boyish grin and freckled face had made her feel electrified and sinful since the moment they’ve locked eyes, this wouldn’t be happening, “I didn’t plan for any of it to happen. He was just…” she takes a deep breath.  _There_ , she wants to say. He was just there, smelling like cranberry and tequila, and looking at her like no one else had ever looked.

“It kind of screwed him over too, you know. The black-eye thing... Mr. Stuart said he didn’t want troublemakers involved with the music group, and we had to kick him out from the music room earlier today, and…”

“That’s really unfair,” Veronica says, feeling a little defensive in spite of herself, “It all happened outside of school, and Archie has that black-eye because Reggie’s an asshole, he didn’t do anything wrong,”  _at least not in the party_ , Veronica’s mind completes.

Val opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something, but then closes it again, and sighs, “Are you thinking of going to cheer practice today?”

“Of course. I told you, my hands are clean,” she bites into another strawberry, “I’m not going to hide.”

 

 

 

 

Coach Clayton gives him a speech about how varsity players  _can’t_ show up on their very first official practice with a bruise on their faces, especially not one acquired at a party where there was underage drinking; especially not one given by another team member. He reads Archie’s file,  _again_ , points how basketball can be the only thing to save his ass from a dark future, and, just like his father on the phone, argues that there are only too many chances he can get.

Archie feels his lunch stirring on his stomach, clenches his jaw and then his fist, wants to ask if  _Reggie_ is going to get lectured as well, but doesn’t do anything, only shakes his head in agreement, and says he’s sorry one more time. The higher road is also the path of least resistance.

Some of his teammates are already warming up on the court when he heads himself to change into practice clothes. He ignores the nodding in his direction and the quiet laughter, but he can’t ignore Jason, who is sitting in the locker room, tying up his shoes.

“Hey,” he greets, quietly, not sure if he can stand another half-hearted sermon about honor and fair play.

Jason sighs, “You look like shit.”

Archie chuckles, “Feels like that too,” he says, opening his locker. It might be a stupid analogy given the current state of his eyebrow, but it’s better to rip off the band-aid before it gets stuck on his skin, “Moose called me a dick, and Steve ignored me earlier today, and even Coach Clayton has something to say about it, so…”

“I’m not gonna give you a hard time, Arch,” Jason stops him, getting up.

“But your text–”

“I know, and I was pretty pissed when I sent that, but you know what? We drank a lot that night, and it’s not the first time someone does something stupid in this school,” he runs a hand through his red hair, “The truth is, you know. Reggie is just doing all that because he’s still in love with her. But they’re broken up, and it’s not like you’re going to try and date her or something.”

“Right,” Archie purposefully fumbles around his locker, just so that its door hides his face. For all his fantasies of courage, he has no idea of how to tell Jason that giving up on his thing with Veronica hasn’t even crossed his mind. It’s also the second time today the word “love” is said to refer to Reggie and Veronica, and Archie feels a little foolish for noticing.

“As long as you’re with us now, it’s going to be okay.”

Archie takes a deep breath, and softly closes the locker’s door, his face a little warm, “Listen, man…”

“Are you touching up your makeup?” Coach Clayton shouts into the room, making Archie and Jason jump a little, “Hit the gym! C’mon! Have any of you seen Mantle?”

They barely have time to think about it when Reggie comes through the door, carrying his backpack in one shoulder, and the hand around its strap has the purple knuckles matching Archie’s face, “’Sup, Coach. Sorry I’m late, I was finishing something.”

“Did I ask you about it? I wanna see you in my office after practice. You two,” he points at Jason and Archie, “Warmup, now!”

 

 

 

 

Val hangs out with her during lunch break, which Veronica thinks is nice, albeit unnecessary – she knows what Val is trying to do, she’s trying to say that she’s on Veronica’s side, but there are no sides.

After the bell rings and Val goes back to the music room, Veronica stays in the student lounge – cheer practice will start later on today, only after the boys are finished with the court.

She thinks of starting The Great Gatsby for English, but she can’t stand too many pages of Jay Gatsby’s man pain – she heads to her locker to keep her things when she sees some weird movement at the end of the hallway. There’s laughter and  _oohs_ and as much as Veronica  _wants_ to ignore it,  _Kevin_ is there, and wherever Kevin Keller is, so is the drama.

She approaches the group that’s gathering around the Senior Year’s Accomplishment Board (a stupid idea the Student Body Council had in junior year to, well, praise the students’ accomplishments), and stops right beside Kevin, “What is going on?”

He frowns, a little weirded out (they don’t talk anymore, he chose Betty), “I’m not… sure.”

Veronica sighs, pushing her way through the crowd so she can see the Accomplishment Board, and then it hits her. Right in the middle of the handmade velvety cover, it’s the fucking picture that Cheryl took on Friday night, of her and Archie  _busted_ in the closet, both their faces white from the flash, his hand reached out to protect his eyes, her lipstick smudged on both their mouths, her dress and hair tousled. Veronica  _knew_ that picture was being passed around the group chats, but  _someone_ printed it, and by the handwritten message right under it,  _CONGRATULATIONS TO VERONICA LODGE FOR BEING A SLUT_ , she knew exactly who did it.

“That son of a bitch,” she spills, ignoring the catcalling and laughing around her, and ripping the picture and the message off the board.

 

 

 

 

Apart from being paired up with Reggie in the one-on-one drill  _again_ , and having an elbow shoved into his stomach so hard he fell on the floor and got benched –  _“I was just doing my play, Coach,”_ Reggie had said so innocently you would almost believe him – nothing too big happens during practice.

Archie and Jason’s team win the scrimmage, this time, but the Blossom twin is the only one of his teammates that congratulates Archie on his performance. Coach Clayton says some words about some big game for Mustangs, happening three weeks from now, and Archie looks around to see if the cheerleaders are already doing their routines, but there’s no one in the smaller court.

The boys retreat to the locker room, stripping off their sweaty clothes and talking about their first game of the season, and Archie has a towel around his waist when he hears the door opening and closing, and makes nothing out of it until he turns, and his body collides with –

“Veronica?!” he says, completely dumbfound as he struggles to maintain the towel in place since it almost fell down his hips with the impact.  _Of course,_  their first meeting of the day would happen like this, while he was semi-naked and surrounded by the Mustangs, and she was looking like a teenage daydream stepping into the boys’ locker room, “What are you doing here?!”

She’s a little dazed, too – he sees her eyes going down his torso, until they reach the edge of the towel he’s now holding securely against his waist, and her berry mouth opens up a little, “Don’t worry about it,” she says, almost with a smile, recomposing herself, placing a strand of perfectly sleek raven her behind her ear.

Veronica tries to get past him – the other boys have already noticed her presence there, and Archie can hear laughs and stupid jokes. Someone asks something about  _trouble in paradise already?_ , Jason sighs and, behind his neck, Archie can  _feel_ Reggie’s glower turning to them, but now his heart has started to beat fast and he’s not sure if he  _should_ let her go deeper in the locker room, “No,” he stops her, “Seriously, what’s going–”

“I mean it, Andrews,” it’s her turn to  _glare_ at him; it’s only then that Archie realizes that she’s  _furious_ , just like she was when Cheryl found them in that closet, “Hit the showers and stay out of my way!”

She shoves him against the locker, passing him by, and even though Archie is glad that her rage is not about him, he’s still nervous as he watches her walk right past him, towards Reggie, who at least still has his pants on.

Veronica pushes something against Reggie’s chest even more forcefully than she rammed Archie. It looks like pieces of paper.

“How could you do that?!” she almost yells at him, “You stupid piece of–”

“Are you out of your m–”

“When it will be enough?! I told you, you wanna kiss every girl in Chicago –  _fine_ ,” Veronica goes on, poking at Reggie’s bare chest in a way that must be hurting, “You wanna print this stupid picture and hang it up –  _fine._ But how dare you call me a slut?!  _Me?_ ” she asks fiercely, but then her voice cracks, “ _Me_ , Reggie.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Reggie says, looking at everything she threw at him, and Archie’s heart beats even faster when he notices that it’s a printed picture – his own red hair is sticking out like a sore thumb. There’s also another paper stuck to the picture, with sayings that he cannot quite grasp from where he's standing.

“This is your handwriting!”

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you!”

“Like hell you wouldn’t,” Veronica says through clenched teeth, and Reggie blows out a frustrated breath, getting a  _look_ on his face that Archie had never seen before in him, something too honest and too soft amongst all those edges.

Reggie and Veronica look at each other for a lingering moment, and Archie only realizes he was holding his breath the whole time when Veronica finally shakes her head and, looking disappointed and mostly sad, turns around to leave the locker room with a trail of sweet perfume behind her.

Archie inexplicably feels like he’s a young boy watching his parents’ marriage falling apart again. His chest tightens as he watches the door she just walked out of. He glances at Reggie for the slightest second, and that honest expression is still on his hard features.

“You wanna go after her?! Go ahead!” Reggie says to him, pushing the papers against Archie’s shoulder so hard it actually hurts, “And what are you staring at?!” he shouts to the other boys who are still looking at them, trying to figure out what the hell all that meant, “Show is over!”

 

 

 

 

He finds her just outside the school gates, phone on her hand like she’s waiting for an Uber – the rain has started and stopped, and the pavement is wet. Archie has thrown on any clothes he could find, and he knows he looks like shit next to her and her high heels and tight pencil skirt. For all the scenarios he had played out in his mind for their first talk after Friday, holding a picture and a stupid sign calling her a slut after witnessing that scene between her and Reggie was the last thing he could have thought of.

Archie reaches out a hand, but stops before he can touch her, not wanting to startle her, “Ronnie, what’s–”

 _Going on_ , he wants to ask, but she looks at him and  _jolts_ , stepping away from his reach and holding her breath, “Don’t,” she says, and he knows it’s a warning. He keeps his hands to himself, “Honestly, just go back inside.”

“Hey,  _my face_ is in this picture too,” he says, showing her the picture in his hand. The sign is crumpled between his fingers; he never wants to read it again, “Do you really think Reggie did that?! Can’t we go to Wetherb–”

“Oh, my God, please  _stop_ talking,” Veronica lifts up a hand, and Archie notices it’s slightly shaky, “I’m not going to the principal about this, I just need to go home, oka–”

“Ronnie, c’mon,” Archie blows out a frustrated breath, “This isn’t right. You’re not… You’re not those things that are written here.”

“Oh,  _really_?” she crosses her arms in front of her body, and for all the sharpness in her voice or in her raised brows, Archie notices goosebumps on her arms, “Thank you for thinking I’m not a slut. Are you saying that based on  _what_? The fact that I didn’t sleep with you, or that I wasn’t sleeping with  _Jughead_?”

Archie feels his face heating up as his hands grow cold and even a little dormant. He doesn’t want  _this_ to be happening. He remembers, clear as day, how scared she was when he left her house two nights ago; he remembers wanting to hold her in his arms. They were supposed to talk about what happened with her father, he was supposed to help her; he wanted to help her.

Well, now, he just wants a hole on the ground to swallow him up, “I… Who…” his voice cracks.

Shit.

“Who told me that?  _Jughead_. Who I didn’t even know you’d met,” she clenches her jaw, hands around her own body as if she’s trying to hold herself together, “Who do you think you are, coming to Chicago and spreading lies about me before–”

“No, listen,” he says to her, “Please, listen to me. Kevin was the one who assumed you two were together, okay? I was just trying to protect Betty. I didn’t think we’d–”

“Protect her from  _what_? You didn’t even know me, Andrews. You and I hadn’t even… and you were already assuming that I would do something like that to hurt Betty. And what’s even  _worse_ is that you knew that, you knew what you had said to her and you still tried to make me believe you were–”

“No, Veronica, I didn’t  _know_ what was going down between you two, I was just–”

“Trying to protect Betty. Yeah, I’ve got that. And because of you, she came to my house and told me horrible things, she kissed Reggie right in front of me. She hurt me.”

Archie sighs, running a hand through his still sweaty hair, and he knows that he should just apologize, the way he’s been doing the whole day, but there’s a lump in his throat that can’t give up this fight, “How is this my f–” he breathes, “I was only trying to do the right thing.”

“Well, try harder,” she says. Archie looks up at her face and notices that her big brown eyes are welling up – the shine hits him like a ton of bricks, “I don’t know who you are, Archie, and you sure as hell don’t know who I am. And look at all the mess we made already. I can’t do this,” she says, finally uncrossing her arms, one hand running through her hair, “If there’s anything I'm sure of, is that I’m  _not_ dumb, and you shouldn’t be, too. Look this thing on your face. Look at all this gossip, at all this shit. I can’t deal with it right now, and honestly? Look at all the harm you’ve already done to me,” she looks into his eyes, “As if I’d be stupid enough to let you get closer.”

Archie crumbles the picture and the sign on his hand, and he wants to say something, he should say something, but–

“Ronnie,” he says, quietly. Something beeps on her phone, almost at the same time a black car slows down, stopping in front of them. It feels like a million years since they were kissing in the back of a limo.

She looks at him for the longest moment. Archie knows she’s holding her breath, too.

“I’ll see you around,” she finally says, exhaling, throwing him one last glance before getting inside the car and driving away.

 

 

 

 

Veronica sits on the steps of the Pembrooke’s entrance, like a fucking cliché. There’s rain again – it’s light and stupidly cold, but she can’t go home.

She’s so angry. She’s angry with Reggie, who wrote those things about her even though he knew he had been the only guy she had ever slept with; she’s angry with Cheryl. She’s angry with Archie, with how he stared at the car until it turned around the corner, with how he called her  _Ronnie_ possibly for the last time, she’s angry with herself for letting him have that effect on her. She’s, above all, angry with her possibly criminal parents, who will come back home hours after dinner just so that they don’t face her.

Maybe it’s the anger, or maybe it’s the rain, but her shoulders are quivering when someone arrives, sitting right next to her. She doesn’t need to look to recognize who it is – the scent gave her away – but she does anyway, and it’s only when she looks at Betty and her high ponytail, is that Veronica realizes she’s been crying the whole time.

“Kevin told me what happened at school,” Betty says, quietly, tentatively placing one hand on Veronica’s shoulder.

Her touch is so familiar but also so foreign; it makes Veronica inhale a sharp breath, “I don’t care what they think about me. I care about – I’m not with Jughead,” she says, voice clogged up with wetness, “I swear, I wouldn’t–”

“I know,” Betty’s green eyes are also filled with tears, “I’m sorry for believing that, even for a minute,” her hand travels slowly to Veronica’s other shoulder until Betty’s arm is resting around her, “I’m sorry for everything, V. I…”

She knows better than to trust Betty. She still remembers, beneath the haze of tears: the headlines, the scandal, how Alice Cooper somehow learned everything Veronica had been telling her daughter about her parents; she remembers the investors bailing on them, FP Jones screaming in her parents’ office after getting fired; remembers Betty promising she didn’t do anything, it wasn’t her fault. She remembers all the fights over loyalty, and how it all went downhill from there.

She knows she can’t trust Betty again, but her arm around her is so familiar, so warm and reassuring; her vanilla scent is so well-known. Veronica leans in, despite herself, letting Betty hold her, and she cries. She just cries.

“Shh, I’m here,” between her sobs, she can hear Betty whispering, fingers running through her damp hair, “I’m here.”

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here comes the angst, lalala. i hope you like this chapter, even though it doesn’t end in a good note for our ship, which i know ir’s not what we want during a hiatus, but it’s just the plot. B&V have reconciled – there will be a Talk, just not right now. i figured ronnie has had enough for one chapter. this chapter is huge! 7k!
> 
> so much has happened, hehe, let’s recap. kevin is on fire because he missed all the gossip. we meet chic! moose is being an idiot. archie is not in a good place. ronnie doesn’t want this heartbreak, it’s better if they end things now. and all the drama with cheryl? hmmm. was reggie guilty of putting that picture in the accomplishment board?
> 
> also, as i’ve told you on tumblr, the Southside Serpents here are a real gang, and i get all my info from sons of anarchy lol so a “prospect” is someone who is still in training, being tested for loyalty etc, before joining the gang. it's an “serpent intern.” yes, jug will go deeper in that storyline.
> 
> this fic is getting an amazing response and i'm, as usual, overwhelmed about it. as usual, it’s all that keeps me going and writing in such a steady, creative pace. i love you. i hope to answer your questions and comments, here and in my tumbr! @andsmile next chapter will probably come next weekend, after the new rd episode. don’t abandon me!
> 
> song in this chapter is "i need my girl", by the national.


	12. Chapter 12

_you say you have the choice to be happy or sad_

 

 

 

 

For the first time since Archie has moved to Chicago, his life seems to settle into some sort of routine. He wakes up, takes the bus to school with Kevin, then comes back home alone. Basketball practices are on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he joins Betty at the tutoring center as she agreed to help him out with his weaker subjects. On weekends, he mostly stays in the loft with his guitar and video games, avoiding his homework until it’s Sunday evening.

His mother is sharp-eyed since the whole Chez Blossom incident – Archie notices that she’s been leaving for work a little later and coming home a little earlier, lately. She asks about his friends, and once asked if there hasn’t been another party he wanted to go to - Archie says no, but the truth is that, as much as the Mustangs have started acknowledging him again during practice, no one in school is really _inviting_ him to anything. Not even Kevin, who is also caught up in Betty and Veronica’s… _reconciliation_. Apparently, he had been waiting for that moment for over a year.

It’s all very lonely, but, at the same time, it feels very normal; it’s not that different from what was going on back in Riverdale. Archie’s only friend – if he can even call her that – is Ms. Baker, who is the only person actively listening to him, although she’s getting paid for doing so.

Ms. Baker always gets barefoot in the middle of the session, and her sock collection is impressive. Today she’s wearing a pair of striped red and black socks, and she tucks her feet under her body while she sits in her yellow chair, holding a cup of tea with both her hands.

She looks very cozy. Archie would feel that way too - lying on the couch with his head against the armrest and one hand resting on his forehead - if he wasn’t talking about his mother. “I don’t know if she’s doing that because she wants to spend more time with me, or if she’s trying to… I don’t know, keep an eye on me. Make sure that I don’t get into trouble again.”

“She is spending more time with you regardless, isn’t she?” Ms. Baker asks, and Archie nods, still looking at the ceiling. “Do you think you’re reconnecting?”

Archie heaves out a breath, a weird, tight feeling in his stomach, “I don’t know. Sometimes, I think we’re more distant than we’ve ever been, even if she’s sleeping in the next room. I just – she seems so disappointed in me, all the time, and I –”

“Disappointed, or worried?”

“Well, she’s worried all the time,” he says, his face warming up a little bit, “but I think she’s disappointed, too, sometimes. I think she wanted me to… I don’t know. Be someone else.”

“We all think our parents want us to be someone else, Archie,” he turns his head to the side, so he can look at Ms. Baker, “but I am someone’s child, and I am someone’s parent too. I think that what they really want, is for us to find ourselves.” She gives him a moment to reflect before saying, “Why would your mother be worried about you all the time?”

He frowns, “Don’t you know?”

Archie is aware that his mother talked a lot to Ms. Baker before his sessions began, and he’s also aware that, since he’s a minor, there are a lot of things that his parents and his therapist are legally advised to talk about. He can only imagine the horrible things they said to Ms. Baker about what happened.

Ms. Baker, however, only gives him a sweet smile. “What really matters to me, Archie, is what you have to tell me. Why would your mother be worried about you all the time?”

His face is warm and probably red, too. Archie clears his throat, and sits up on the couch – he doesn’t think he can talk about that while lying down.

He’s also a little angry with himself. He knows that his parents only put him in therapy so he would talk about his relationship with Geraldine; he _knows_ that Ms. Baker will probably just agree with them about the whole abuse part, and that she’ll try to convince him about that, but still, after spending a month in another town with virtually no friends, Archie can’t help but feel tempted to hear what someone else has to say about it.

(The only other time he tried to talk about it was at the dance; talking to Veronica about it somehow just made sense. But now, Veronica isn’t really speaking to him anymore, so there was no other option.)

“I had a…” he begins, folding his hands on his lap. He could never call Geraldine his girlfriend. He couldn’t take her on dates to Pop’s, or kiss her on the streets, and it still stings that they never got to live any of it, “Relationship with someone. She was older than me, and my parents were really angry when they found out.”

She sips on her tea, and Archie expects her to ask how much older Geraldine was. But what she says is, “How long were you in this relationship?”

It catches him off guard. His face gets even warmer, and he has to think about it for a second before answering. “It started in the summer between sophomore and junior year, and… I don’t really know when it ended,” he answers honestly; everything about his relationship with Geraldine seems more and more blurry as days pass on by, and he’s a little nervous when he starts speaking again. “This July, I guess – we were still together by the fourth of July, and then her husband found out and–”

He can still hear Geraldine’s whispers in his ear, _I’ll leave him as soon as you graduate. We’ll be together,_ and _no one can ever know,_ and how she screamed when her husband punched him in the stomach. His palms are sweaty now, though they are also very cold, and something in his throat keeps him from going on.

“About a year, then,” Ms. Baker says, and her voice is so soothing and firm; it’s like it comes from another world, snapping him back to reality. “Were you hurt? When people found out about you two?”

He’s not sure what hurt the most: the couple of weeks he spent in the hospital with two fractured ribs, hearing his parents screaming and shouting at each other under the haze of morphine, or when he _finally_ saw Geraldine again, in his house foyer, and she was blatantly agreeing to every condition Fred and Mary were imposing without even _looking_ at him.

Archie wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and nods, feeling extremely tired all of a sudden.

Ms. Baker gets up, walking with her socked feet towards the small coffee/tea station she has assembled in one corner of the room. The white noise that follows her actions – opening and closing cabinets, water quickly boiling in the electric kettle, being poured into a cup, the stirring spoon tinkling against the china; it all helps to calm him down.

Archie looks up when he sees some movement, and she’s right in front of him with another cup of tea – it’s foaming, and it smells herby. He takes it, offering the smallest of smiles, and she touches his shoulder for one second before going back to her chair.

“You know, Archie, I need to tell you something very important,” she starts, and she’s so collected, it almost makes him feel embarrassed about what just happened. “You and I haven’t known each other for a long time, but I think you’re a great kid, and I’m lucky I get to spend time with you. You can trust me. We’ll deal with whatever you want to deal with, as quickly as you want to. Okay?”

He nods again, unable to say anything yet, and drinks a little bit of his tea. It’s too hot and overly sweet, but it still envelopes him in something nice.

 

 

 

Reggie backs off from his vendetta fantasy, it seems like, and no one in school is brave enough to call her a slut to Veronica’s face. Cheryl is still not speaking to her, except to yell at her during cheer practice, of course, but the other girls definitely stayed out of their disagreement. Except for that, things have finally begun to settle back into the _status quo_. Riding to school with Betty, watching raindrops form paths on the car’s window, both singing along to some pop ballad – it might not have happened for a year, but it still feels very familiar.

What doesn’t feel familiar is having all those secrets with Jughead Jones.

There haven’t been any developments on her front. Between rekindling her friendship with Betty (hiding it from both the Coopers and the Lodges) and all her obligations at school, Veronica has barely found any time to work on what mattered. Her parents seemed to find a lot of excuses not to take the _I want to participate more in Lodge Industries_ talk any further, and as much as she has tried to hear behind doors, nothing important had come up.

Jughead, however, seemed to be getting in deeper with the Southside life – his father still didn’t say anything straight to his face, and Jughead couldn’t find the Serpent jacket in any closet. However, that Serpent Prospect, Sweet Pea, confirmed FP’s involvement in the gang.

 ** _he told me that if i was thinking about joining, i should speak to my dad about it, not to him,_** Jughead had texted.

_do you think your dad would just tell you?_

**_not a chance. but this guy has a warm temper. if i try enough he’ll def show me a way in._ **

_you’re not really thinking about joining, tho. right?_

**_of course not._ **

_why don’t you try your mom? maybe she knows something._

There are still five minutes before the bell rings, but she’s already in the Wednesday biology lab, staring at her chat history with Jughead and feeling weirdly odd about his lack of response to her last question, when Betty’s voice rings out, “Delivery!”

Veronica puts her phone away almost too quickly, but luckily Betty doesn’t find any of it suspicious, carefully placing a paper tray with four cups of coffee on the table. “Dark roast, two sugars, for you,” Betty says, placing a cup in front of Veronica, who accepts it with a smile. “Hot chocolate for myself…”

“Green tea, no sugar, for your bestie,” Kevin says, coming out of nowhere with his signature brown bag strapped across his chest and taking the third cup. _Getting back together_ with Betty had been an amazing experience so far – it’s like someone had lifted a weight off her shoulders, something she didn’t even know she was carrying – but one of the biggest perks was finally having Kevin around again.

“Or should we say _brother-in-law_?” Veronica teases, lifting an eyebrow. Kevin rolls his eyes.

“Chic and I went out twice,” he complains and then sighs when he feels both Betty and Veronica’s eyes on him. “Okay, three times. Why can’t a hook-up just be a hook-up nowadays?”

Veronica laughs a little, and then points to the coffee tray with her chin – there’s still one cup left, but she can’t see the name written on it. “Who’s that for?”

Betty turns slightly pink, just like her lip gloss. She opens her mouth to answer, but Kevin is faster. “Arch!” he calls, waving towards the door. “Come here, Betty brought you a coffee!”

 _Oh_ , Veronica thinks, and feels her cheeks warm up. Her eyes are drawn to Archie Andrews, as they usually are – he seems a little hesitant to come closer, both hands around the straps of his backpack, wearing a blue long-sleeved shirt that makes his red hair pop. He quickly glances at her, and their eyes linger on each other for long enough that she realizes he’s asking for some sort of permission to come closer.

Veronica sighs, turning up the corner of her lips just so he knows it’s okay – she’s not getting in the middle of anyone’s friendship, after all – and he breathes out too, two bright spots of red appearing right above his cheekbones. “Morning, guys,” he says, coming closer to their station.

“Latte, one sugar,” Betty holds the fourth cup to Archie, who thanks her. Veronica looks away, not knowing how to behave – she’s not that angry with him anymore, but she’s also not ready to have him around. “And…” Betty goes on, taking some papers out of her backpack, “Good work! Eighty-one on your test practice!”

The coffee cup stops halfway to Archie’s mouth, and his thick eyebrows travel towards his hairline, “Really?” he asks, and then looks at the grade Betty shows him. “Wow!” he says, smiling. Veronica drinks her own coffee just so she has something to do with her lips that don’t involve her own teeth.

“I’m really proud of you, Arch,” Betty smiles brightly as he looks to the test with his face lit up.

“Thank you, Betts,” he says, putting an arm around Betty and pressing her to his side. Veronica frowns a little bit, an uncomfortable feeling setting on the bottom of her throat – she didn’t know Betty was tutoring Archie (but, then again, Betty also didn’t know she was conspiring against her own family with Jughead). “You’re a Rockstar. If I get anything other than a D, I’m buying you dinner.”

He lets go of her just as Betty says, “It’s a date,” smiling a little. Archie smiles back, and then looks briefly at Veronica before taking his coffee to an empty station.

“It’s… a _date_?” Kevin asks as soon as Archie is far away enough so he doesn’t hear them.

Betty rolls her eyes, “Stop it, Kevin. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I mean, I’m _all_ for you taking a break of your Jughead-induced-coma, and yes, when Archie moved to Chicago the first thing that crossed my mind was that you two would make a lovely couple, but–”

He’s interrupted by Betty, who flagrantly lifts her eyebrows towards Veronica, who almost chokes on her coffee. “Please, not on my account,” she says, almost too quickly, hoping to sound convincing enough. “What were you just saying, Kevin? _Maybe a hook-up is just a hook-up_? Besides,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “I still haven’t really forgiven him for pulling that stunt about me and Jug– _what_?”

She stops talking when she realizes both Betty and Kevin are looking at her with soft, puppy dog eyes. Betty is the one who speaks first, reaching out a hand to rest on hers. “Archie is a really good guy, V,” she says, in a very sweet voice. Veronica frowns, glancing at Kevin, but he’s just nodding. “I _know_ what he did was wrong, but it was me and my desperation who accused you of sneaking behind my back with Juggie, not him.”

“I'm guilty, too,” Kevin adds, quickly. “The whole thing just sounded so scandalous.”

“Archie meant no harm,” Betty squeezes her fingers, “and this whole experience must be a little lonely for him. Moving, stressing out about his grades, getting shut out by his teammates, Mr. Stuart not allowing him to join the music group, crushing on the prettiest girl in school…” She tries a smile.

"He definitely deserves a second chance,” Kevin presses, nodding profusely.

Veronica sighs. And before she can answer, the bell rings, and the biology teacher arrives, telling them to pull out their gloves and pair up. From where she’s sitting, she can see Archie’s back, the red point of his ears, and the way his back muscles move under the blue t-shirt. She almost wishes she couldn’t remember how they moved under her fingertips.

Betty sits next to her, and Kevin proceeds to sit with Archie, when he’s interrupted by Moose Mason, who grabs his arm and tells him something in a low voice. Kevin blows out a breath, a little annoyed, but apparently, changes his mind and goes sit with Moose.

Veronica is about to ask Betty if she wanted to pair up with Archie – she could work with Josie or someone else – when Cheryl arrives in the classroom, looking immaculate, as always, and wearing red, as always. She barely acknowledges Veronica or who’s by her side – but a wicked smile appears in the corner of her lips when she witnesses Archie sitting alone in his station.

“Good morning, handsome,” Veronica hears Cheryl say in her high-pitched flirty voice, as she sits beside Archie without asking. “Looks like fate is throwing us together.”

Cheryl says something else, making him laugh, and Veronica clutches the pearl necklace around her neck, as if this would make that stupid distressing feeling go away, paired with Kevin’s words about second chances.

She has no right to feel jealous. She has no right to feel _anything._

 

 

  
  
After practice, before they can hit the showers, Coach Clayton sits the whole team down on the bleachers. The Vixens are there too, on the other side of the court, waiting for them to leave so they can start their routines. There are white and burgundy _pom poms_ around them today – Cheryl (his new lab partner), Tina, and Ginger are already sitting on the floor, stretching, and a couple of other girls are talking. Veronica, however, is sitting alone, face buried in a paperback edition of _The Beautiful and the Damned_ , the second Fitzgerald book they’re reading for English class.

Archie turns the basketball between his hands, miserably aware that Reggie is playing the same _I’m-not-looking-at-Veronica_ game and that they’re both losing.

To be honest, playing that game was not getting any easier with each passing day, as expected – she’s still the first thing he looks for in the hallways or when walking into a classroom. He can’t help it. Even though he’s trying to give her the space she asked for, it’s not like he can just forget what happened with them – he also can’t forget how scared she looked after witnessing that talk between her father and that other man.

After the whole Jughead misunderstanding, he promised himself that he wouldn’t take that matter to Kevin or Betty, even though they were now friends with Veronica again. But still, he wanted to be brave enough to walk up to her and ask her about it, letting her know that he remembers, and that he wants to help. Ask if she’s okay, if she needs anything, if he could do something.

 _As if I’d be stupid enough to let you get closer_ , she had said to him, her voice full of hurt. Maybe she was right. It’s something that’s been playing repeatedly on his mind, ever since he left Ms. Baker’s office last Monday – it wasn’t all sunshine and brightness inside of him, and for all his desire to do the right thing, sometimes his actions had horrible consequences. Who would want to be caught up in that?

“When you all leave this gym today,” Coach Clayton’s voice snaps him back to the moment, “I want you to remember this face.” He points to himself, “Because if we lose our first game of the season this Friday, I can guarantee you that it’s the last thing you’re gonna see in this life.”

The boys laugh a little – even the girls laugh a little, those who heard him – but the coach remains dead serious; Archie wonders if he should feel nervous.

“For some of you, this is your last year in high school. This means we have one last chance. Some of you have been with me since freshman year, some of you I’ve just met now – it doesn’t matter. What you did before, what we did before, how many games we’ve won or lost, it will all come down to this one last chance. There will be scouts from great universities and great teams sitting down in the crowd, following us through the season, looking at what you will do with this one last chance. And there are only two things separating you from all this greatness. The first, is the Roosevelt Rough Riders. The second, is you.”

“We’re gonna do our best, Coach,” Jason says, honoring his captain title. “We’re ready for this.”

The whole team agrees – Ginger Lopez catcalls and screams _Go Mustangs!_ which makes all the boys smile. Coach Clayton scoffs, then says some more words about their upcoming game. Archie gets up once the speech is over, leaving the basketball in the stands, and he’s ready to ask Jason what he knows about the Roosevelt Rough Riders, when the coach calls, “Andrews! Mantle! A word, please.”

Archie stops, frowning, and by the look on Reggie’s face, he’s also confused. Jason gives a pat on his arm and proceeds to the locker room. Archie takes a deep breath, going back to where the Coach is still standing. “Yes, sir.”

“Coach,” Reggie says, his hair plastered with sweat.

“I understand you two had a misunderstanding in the beginning of the school year, but can I rest assured that whatever happened was dealt with and that you two will not work against each other in this game or in the others to come?”

Archie looks over at Reggie, and they stare at each other for a long moment before agreeing, “There won’t be any problems, sir.”

“Good,” Coach Clayton says, and leaves them without any other word. As soon as he moves, there’s a clear view of the girls, who have taken over the court to stretch and start their practice, and Archie’s eyes immediately find Veronica among them. She’s sitting on the floor with one leg stretched, reaching out towards her foot, head down.

“Full disclosure,” Reggie’s voice brings him back to reality, and he manages to look away, “I don’t know what the hell you thought you were doing, kissing my girlf–”

“ _Ex_ -girlfriend.” Archie knows he should keep quiet and honor the promises they just made to their coach, but he can’t fight against the blood that starts boiling in his veins. “Last time I checked, you two were still broken up.”

He expects to be punched again, or at least shoved, but in an unexpected turn of events, Reggie just laughs. “You’re funny. I’ll give you that. I may not be with Veronica, _yet_ , but last time _I_ checked, neither are you,” he says, and Archie clenches his jaw, because he knows that nothing good can come out of that smug look on his face. “You’re my teammate, and like coach said, we have to work together. But I swear to God, if you do anything to piss me off, I’ll get your ass kicked off the Mustangs faster than you can say _sorry_.”

Reggie does punch him again, but in the arm, a bit too hard for it to be an innocent gesture, and then turns to leave. Archie almost lets him walk away, but his anger works against his best judgement. “You know, I still have that picture and that stupid sign you wrote about Veronica,” he says, and Reggie stops walking and turns around. “I bet _that_ could get _your ass_ kicked off the Mustangs, too.”

“I had nothing to do with that shit.”

“I guess you’re lucky at least one of us respects her.”

Reggie looks at him for a long time, grinding his teeth together, and Archie tries to sustain the glare without blinking. “Screw you, Andrews,” he finally says, leaving.

Archie watches Reggie walk off and heaves a sigh, letting his gaze drift back to where he last saw Veronica stretching. She’s looking at him, as if she was watching the scene, and she doesn’t try to look away.

Archie doesn’t know if he imagines her lips turning up in the smallest of smiles.

  
  
  
  


The last Friday in September comes and, with it, the first basketball game of the season: Northside Mustangs vs. Roosevelt Rough Riders. The gym is packed with students, friends, and family, and the team mascot (who is just Adam Chrisholm dressed as a horse) is already at the court, doing some funny things to entertain the public.

Veronica is in the locker room with the rest of the cheerleading squad, already in her uniform - a pretty burgundy and white long-sleeved short dress that’s pretty much stuck to her body, the letter N printed in the center of her chest. She stares at the mirror as she places a little white bow in her hair, feeling that buzz in her stomach that always comes before a game.

It’s the last year she’ll be a cheerleader in high school. With all the other things happening in her life, this shouldn’t be given any importance, but she can’t help but feel a little scared, and a little forlorn. She’s growing up; her future is right there, and if her parents really are doing illegal stuff, maybe it won’t be as bright as she once thought it would be.

“Vixens, Josie’s ready. We need to be out there in five!” Cheryl yells. Veronica looks at her through the mirror – she remembers their little ritual before a game, doing each other’s makeup with glittery eyeshadow and red lipstick. Even when Betty was still in the squad, before the fight, cheerleading had always been something so _theirs_ , hers and Cheryl’s – a passion they shared for dancing and precise movements, and beauty. She doesn’t want to admit it, but as much as she loves being in Betty’s life again, she misses Cheryl, misses her quirky remarks and how they could communicate with arched eyebrows and the curl of their lips.

Cheryl’s eyes catch hers through the reflection. Veronica gives her the smallest of smiles – something she offered Archie Andrews during practice the other day, after she witnessed some heated conversation between Reggie and him, that ended up with Reggie walking away. Of course, Cheryl notices it, and recaps her lipstick with a sharp _click_ before coming a little closer.

“It’s good like that,” she points to the little bow in Veronica’s hair. “Did your parents come to watch the game?”

“No, they had some sort of gala to attend,” Veronica breathes, tiredly. “Yours?”

“Of course. They wouldn’t miss Jason’s big start this year,” Cheryl says, leaning on the wall next to the mirror Veronica’s using. She’s wearing it all – the glitter, the red lips in a sad smile. Cheryl’s parents were a little too obvious about who their favorite child was. “Did Betty come?”

Veronica presses her lips together. “I think so.”

Cheryl eyebrows travel towards her hairline. “B&V, joined at the hip again,” she says, and beneath the tease, Veronica can hear the hurt in her words.

“Cher,” she rests a hand in Cheryl’s arm, “we don’t need to be like this, okay?”

“We do. I’m tired, Veronica.” She pushes her arm away from Veronica’s touch. “I’m tired of being your second choice, and I sure as hell don’t want to be the third wheel in you and Betty’s great friendship.”

“If you would just _listen_ to me–”

“You know, when Reggie printed that picture and called you a slut for the whole school to see, I actually felt bad about it. I thought that maybe I shouldn’t have taken it; maybe I shouldn’t have given him the power to hurt you. I waited for you to come to me, to talk to me about it, so we could work it out. But you went straight to Betty.”

“This is not how it happened, Cheryl. She came to me, she said she was sorry that she talked about my problems with her mom, and she asked for a second chance. I’m just giving her one, okay? There’s nothing wrong with that. And things have been good, I feel bet–”

“Oh, that’s just _great_. I’m so glad this is working out for you, Veronica.” She exhales sharply, looking at the ceiling abruptly as if she’s trying not to cry, but when she looks at Veronica again, her brown eyes are completely dry. “We have to go. Try not to suck out there.”  
  
  


 

 

Josie, Val, and Melody, again with the cat-shaped ear headbands, sing a fun version of _Sugar, Sugar_. The cheerleaders enter the gym, shaking their _pom poms_ in the air, greeted by the roaring crowd. Veronica beams, jumping, and for a moment, all the drama is forgotten. She’s lost in the music, in the choreography, in the rush that comes with all of it.

As soon as their presentation is over, she runs to the stands where Betty is sitting. It’s not that she wants to rub it in Cheryl’s face or anything like that – but it’s been such a long time since she could share a moment of thrill with Betty. The blond girl is slightly dressed up, wearing a hunter green skirt and a white cardigan, her hair down in waves, and she has her arms open to greet Veronica with a hug. “You were amazing!”

“I feel amazing!” Veronica answers, smiling brightly, until she sees a certain beanie-wearing boy standing up, wiping his hands on his jeans, and she frowns. “Jughead?” She looks at him, and then at Betty.

“Hi, Veronica,” he says, quietly, and she remembers that they have secrets together, that Betty doesn’t know anything about it yet, and that she’s still not sure if she should trust Betty again with any important information. But the other option is lying, and that would probably be unforgivable – she supposes she’ll have to talk about it with Jughead one day. “Long time!” he blows out a breath.

“Yeah,” she plays along, clearing her throat.

“So,” Jughead says, “why aren’t you cheering too, Betty?”

“Oh, sometimes I forget you don’t go here anymore,” she laughs, and then makes a face. “Cheryl kicked me off the team. I was upset at first, but honestly, she did me a favor. Between tutoring and being in the prom committee and all the other extracurriculars…”

“Man, I do not miss Cheryl Blossom,” Jughead laughs a little bit. Veronica smiles sadly, wishing she could feel the same. “What did you do to get yourself kicked off? Wore the same nail polish as her?”

Betty turns a little pink, and Veronica sees an opportunity to maybe stir the pot a little bit and give Jughead something to worry about – it’s unbelievable how stupid he is, not realizing how Betty feels about him. “Oh, she did it to protect me, after Betty kissed Reggie.”

_“V!”_

It does work. Jughead chokes on nothing. “Reggie _Mantle_? Your _boyfriend_?” he looks at Veronica, unbelieving.

It’s funny. She and Jughead have been connected since before the summer – fighting over his future and, now, discussing gangs and their parents’ possible criminal activities – but it never occurred to her how disconnected from their _actual lives_ Jughead was after moving to the Southside.

“Oh, Jones,” it’s Betty who says this playfully even if she’s still blushing, placing one hand on Jughead’s shoulder, his mouth is hung open, “there’s so much you don’t know.”

“Apparently,” he agrees, making a face. “We have a whole game ahead for you to fill me in.”

Veronica laughs. “I’ll see you after the game, B,” she says, winking at her best friend and then throwing Jughead a quick glance.

The boys from both teams are already on the court warming up when Veronica gets back. They’re running around and throwing balls at the basket from various distances. Moose Mason approaches the cheerleaders so he can quickly kiss his girlfriend, Midge Klump. Veronica watches the scene with a nostalgic smile on her face. Game nights were always good ones for Reggie and her, before the worst, before he thought it would be a good idea to make a sign calling her a slut.

Despite her better judgement, she searches for Reggie. He’s still not warming up, sitting on the bench with headphones on and a focused face, looking particularly nervous. She knows why – Mr. and Mrs. Mantle are probably in the stands, and they’ve never accepted anything but perfection from Reggie. Basketball was the one thing he thing excelled at, his big shot at a bright future, and anything other than a victory wasn’t on the table for discussion.

She’s lost in her thoughts about forgiveness and second chances, about how easy it was to take a leap of faith with Betty and how impossible it felt to do the same with Reggie after everything, when a ball comes rolling towards her. She stops it with her foot, getting it so she can throw it back when she realizes that the player waiting for it is Archie, his strong arms exposed by the white uniform, his hair messy and sticking up. It’s like a joke from the fucking universe, or maybe some sort of sign.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Veronica can’t help but kink an eyebrow.

“Why? Did you throw it at me on purpose?” she asks, her lips turning up a little bit, turning the ball between her hands.

He widens his eyes. “No! Of course, not!”

“Are you nervous?” she asks, out of sheer curiosity. He looks like it, red ears and jittery legs.

“That you’re talking to me? Yeah,” he says, but then laughs a little, one hand scratching the back of his head. “Oh, you mean the game?”

A boyish grin appears on his face, and for a split second, Veronica forgets why she’s mad at him. She bites her lower lip to prevent a smile and then rolls her eyes, finally throwing the ball back at him; he catches it skillfully, “Good luck, Andrews.”

"Thanks, Ronnie."

  
  
  


 

Maybe it’s only wishful thinking, but Veronica’s words and the smile on her red lips help; the Mustangs crush the Rough Riders, winning their first game of the season.

It’s funny. Back in Riverdale, Basketball was the only thing that wasn’t wrapped up in the Geraldine situation and was the only place where he felt good about himself. At some point, that too was lost – going to practice meant he would have to spend another minute away from her, and participating in games was something he started to dread – he could never hold her afterwards and more than once she’d attended it with her husband.

But now, as his teammates congratulate him on his performance, he wonders what else he missed during that haze. Talking to Ms. Baker about it was, maybe, a little triggering – if he thought about it, he couldn’t remember actually being happy for one minute back then, unless he was with Geraldine. And now, when he feels it coming back, it’s so thrilling it’s almost overwhelming.

He’s still a little drunk with adrenaline when he gets back from the locker room. People were on the court now, greeting the players and the cheerleaders. He spots Betty, who’s sitting next to Jughead in the stands, and they’re laughing together in an affectionate way. He knows Kevin couldn’t come because his mother, who was in the military, would be at home, something that didn’t happen often. Archie wonders if going over to talk to them would be intruding, but before he can come to a decision, he sees his mother and Jeffrey walking over to him.

He’s a little confused and even more surprised. He never thought Mary would take the time to come watch his game, nonetheless wearing a t-shirt with _MAROON MADNESS_ written on it. She’s got a huge smile on her face when she approaches him. “Honey!” she says, pulling him in for a hug. “You did so well!”

She sounds almost like she’s proud of him. Archie doesn’t know what to do, leaning into her warm embrace, some weird emotion clogging up his throat. She lets go of him after a long moment, and he’s even a little embarrassed to look at her face. Jeffrey’s hand finds his shoulder. “Great game, buddy!”

“Thank you, Jeff,” he says, breathing out.

“I was thinking about going to Giordano’s to celebrate,” his mother says. It was one of the best pizzerias in Chicago, and she knows he used to love eating there when he visited her in other summers. Archie smiles, feeling for the first time in a while that he accomplished something. He agrees, receiving yet another pat on the back from Jeffrey. “Do you want to take a friend?”

He glances over at where Betty and Jughead were, but they seem to be gone. He can see Jason, talking to whom he assumes are his parents – they’re all redheaded, like the Weasley family or something. Jason is smiling at them, but Cheryl seems a little out of the picture, her hands wrapped around her body as if she was cold or something. Archie is not sure she’s feeling very well.

“Nah, we can just go,” he says, frowning a little bit. He has never seen Cheryl look so upset. His eyes follow her eyes towards the door, and he finally finds Betty – her arms are linked with Veronica’s, who is still wearing her cheer uniform, and they’re both smiling to each other, Jughead walking beside them with his hands in his pockets.

Archie looks at Cheryl again, and she seems to be shaking, like something inside of her is cracking. She doesn’t realize he’s looking, and turns around, walking towards the locker rooms so fast you’d think she was going to throw up or something. Neither Jason nor her parents have noticed, and Archie can only stand still for a minute before giving in to his instincts.

“Mom,” he says, watching her red hair leave a trace behind her, “just wait a minute. I think I forgot something in the locker room.”

He doesn’t wait for his mom’s answer and just goes after Cheryl – he doesn’t know her all that much, but he’s genuinely worried. Archie goes back to the locker room area, which is completely empty right now, and it’s not hard to find the cheer captain sitting on the floor at the end of the hallway, holding her knees against her body and crying into her hands.

 _Fuck_. Archie didn’t know what to do when people cried. He wonders if he should run back to the gym and try to reach Veronica so she could control this situation, but a part of him is sure that Veronica is part of the problem. _Maybe he could get Jason?_ But their parents were there, and maybe _that_ would be a little too much. Cheryl doesn’t see him, her whole body shaking, trembling with uncontrollable sobs, and he feels a lump forming in his throat when he decides _fuck it_ and walks over to her, sitting down by her side.

“Hey,” he calls, quietly enough so he doesn’t startle her. Cheryl takes in a sharp breath, but she doesn’t try to pretend nothing is happening. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She can’t really answer, her breathing caught up in her throat, but he can hear something that sounds like _Why can’t I be enough?_ coming out amongst the sobbing. Archie carefully reaches out a hand to touch her arm, and he rubs it a little. She’s trembling, and her wrists look very fragile; it’s a little heartbreaking. He expects her to jump at his touch or push him away, but she doesn’t – instead, she just lets go of her knees, and leans in until her face is on his shoulder.

“I’m alone,” she barely sniffs out, and Archie is not really sure of what to do. “I’m alone.”

He puts an arm around her, bringing her closer to his chest, and lets her cry as long as she wants to. He’s not sure what Cheryl really means, if this is about her parents or her fight with Veronica or something else, so he can only take a deep breath and wait for this all to go away. He knows what she’s feeling though - he’s felt it before, and he knows it’s terrifying.

“You’re not alone,” he assures her, rubbing her arm. “I’m here, okay? You’re not alone.”

  
  
  


 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! (: so, last chapter caused a bit of a drama™ about the pacing of this story, and trust me, _i know_ it's slow-paced, but it's intended to be this way. but anyway, i wanted to have a time jump of sorts, so this chapter was the one. hahaha
> 
> i don't have much to say about it? archie goes back to therapy - he's been going regularly and is finally starting to open up about grundy, which triggers some anxiety. veronica is now friends with betty again, willing to take a chance on them, so why not give archie a second chance? not if reggie has something to say about it. and then cheryl breaks and our resident hero goes after her to help her... will that be the beggining of something?
> 
> i now have an official beta! **nicole** , thank you so much for helping me out with this! she's polishing up the earlier chapters too so soon enough you'll have a grammar-mistake free LM lol! you're a rockstar, sweetie!
> 
> thank you all so much for the comments as usual, the response of this story means everything to me! song at the beggining is "let it go", by the boxer rebellion!


	13. Chapter 13

_this ocean between us is gonna swallow me_

 

 

 

October rolls in the following Monday, in what feels like the first dry day in _years_ , the sun bright over their heads even though the air feels a bit colder. Archie sits with Kevin at their usual table in the courtyard during lunch break, eating chips as he listens to his friend go off about whether he would, or wouldn’t, host the school’s Variety Show.

“Every year, I host it. Every year, it sucks,” Kevin says, making Archie snort. “No, really. I’ve never had _one_ talented person perform. Last year I got a juggler, a _tragic_ poetry reading act, and a magician that honestly looked like David Copperfield on crack.”

“That sounds like quite a show to me,” Archie says, laughing, but he tries to stop as soon as he realizes the _glare_ Kevin is giving him. “Why the doubt, though? I mean, if it’s so bad…”

“I’m just… Weirdly sentimental about it,” Kevin sighs. “It’s our last year of high school, you know? Soon we’ll be out there trying to fend for ourselves, and I won’t have to worry about this kind of really irrelevant stuff anymore.”

This immediately gets Archie’s mind back to his GPA, which is getting slowly better, but not nearly good enough to get him _out there._ It stirs some anxiety in his stomach, and he heaves a breath, staring at his chips with no will to keep on eating them. He knows that if only he had taken school seriously last year, his future wouldn’t look so dark right now. For the briefest moment, he wishes he’d never been involved with Geraldine.

The thought is a little startling, but luckily, it’s brushed away when Kevin’s hand rests on his forearm. “Hey, _you_! Would you be a part of it? I know you sing–”

“I don’t _sing_.” Archie’s ears get a little hot. “I play the guitar and I write some songs. But–”

“Well, are you any good at it? No, scratch that, are you anything other than horrible? Because I don’t know what could be worse than the guy that played flute in sophomore year. _That_ was a performance to remember.”

“I don’t know. Kev, I’m not sure I’d be the best advertisement.”

“Are you kidding me? The _new guy_ who kissed Veronica freaking Lodge, got punched by Reggie Mantle, and scored eleven points in his first game of the season has a soft, tortured side that he pours into song lyrics?” Kevin raises his eyebrows. “My friend, that’s Advertising 101.”

Archie tries to find an argument that would break Kevin’s line of thought – the last thing he needed was more attention to himself – but as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, he realizes Cheryl Blossom is marching to their table, her red hair strangely up in a high ponytail.

After the game, Cheryl had cried on Archie’s shoulder for what had felt like forever. She didn’t say anything – didn’t explain her reasons – and he patiently waited until her sobs calmed down to let her go. She looked up at him, then, a little disheveled – smudged lipstick and tear-stained cheeks – and thanked him with a lot of honesty in her brown eyes. They got up, and he waited outside the girls’ locker room for her to wash her face and re-apply her makeup. Then they walked back to the court only to learn that Jason and her parents had left without her.

“JJ thought I was with the girls and got a ride with Polly,” Cheryl said after checking her phone and announced she’d take an Uber home. She looked so miserable that Archie had no other option.

“Uh, how would you feel about some pizza?”

And that was how his Friday night ended up in a booth inside a crowded Giordano’s unit with Cheryl Blossom sitting by his side and his mom and Jeffrey across them, throwing glances at them in that embarrassing way only parents know how to. Archie kept quiet most of the time, while Cheryl fell into surprisingly easy conversation with his mother. They drove her home, afterwards, and she threw him a really soft smile that read like another thank you.

Archie clears his throat, shifting in his seat a little uncomfortable – it takes Kevin only a second to notice her as well.

“Oh, God,” he hears Kevin whisper. Of course, after the whole _Jughead-Veronica_ misunderstanding, Archie knew better than to pry into other people’s business; he hadn’t told anyone about what happened to Cheryl after the game. Somehow, he knows she wouldn’t want him to.

“Hi there, Archie,” Cheryl says, with her signature red smile on her lips, nothing like the one she gave him the last time they’d seen each other. She looks like she’s feeling better, at least. “Hi, Kevin.”

She keeps on smiling. Kevin, who was on the way to biting into his sandwich, freezes, a clear frown forming on his face. Archie frowns too – throughout the whole month, he had never heard Cheryl acknowledging Kevin’s presence anywhere, even less so calling him by his first name.

“Hey, Cheryl,” Archie says, a little wary. She sits right in front of them, without asking, and Archie is drawn back to the first day of school when they first met. He decides to ask anything just to break the uncomfortable silence. “How’s it going?”

“I’m well, thanks for asking,” she says, in that sugary-sweet voice that didn’t at all match her personality. Archie had noticed that during dinner, too – her voice changed a lot when she was just being herself. “What are you guys talking about?”

Kevin’s still too taken aback, sandwich almost falling from his hand, so Archie is the one who answers. “Hum, Kevin was debating whether or not to host the Variety Show this y–”

“The Variety Show?” Cheryl asks, an eyebrow arching up. “That sounds like a great idea! God knows how this school needs to stick out. There are so many talented stud–”

“What the fuck is this about?” Kevin finally wakes up from his trance, resting his sandwich back on his plate and looking at Cheryl with a gleam in his green eyes that Archie had never seen before – it’s almost like he’s _angry_. “I’ve hosted the Variety Show for _years,_ and you did nothing but show up to bully the performers and talk shit about what I was trying to do.”

Cheryl’s smile fades a little on her face, and the expression she makes is a little more similar to what Archie had seen on Friday night; it only lasts the briefest of seconds. “I admit that I didn’t see the appeal of it before, but here I am now. If you were to host it again this year, I would like to help in any way I can.”

Archie looks back and forth between them, not really sure if he should interrupt before one of them says something hurtful. Archie knows Kevin and Cheryl’s past had been complicated, but he also knows that whatever happened to Cheryl on Friday night came from a place of honesty, and he believes that people can change. “That sounds awesome, Cheryl.”

“Great!” she smiles again, sounding chirpy. “You can arrange the details, Kevin, and I will make sure that Josie, Val and Melody are available to perform on the day you pick. Maybe the Vixens can do a number, too.” Archie can’t help but smile awkwardly at her enthusiasm,  just the opposite of what’s happening on Kevin’s face right now. Cheryl gets up, and before she turns around to leave, she winks towards Archie. “See you at practice, gorgeous.”

Archie, who wasn’t expecting that, turns the color of his hair. He watches her leave for a second before turning to Kevin, who is still very much astonished. “Oh, my God,” Kevin says, “You ginger Judas. How dare you involve Cheryl Blossom in _my_ show?”

“I didn’t do anyth–”

 _“That sounds awesome, Cheryl,”_ Kevin impersonates him, using a weird voice that Archie hopes is not too close to reality. “And _see you at practice, gorgeous_?” his voice shifts to a high-pitched, feminine tune. “You win _one game_ and you’re already scoring the cheer captain? I thought you were still into Veronica!”

Archie makes a face, getting even redder. “Cheryl’s just my lab partner, Kev.”

“Oh, _yeah_ , and Moose is mine,” Kevin says, cross. Archie raises his hands as if to gesture that he’s not going to get into this with Kevin, who sinks into his seat, with his hands crossed in front of his chest. His sullen expression lasts for one second – soon, he composes himself and glances at Archie with one brow high. “You’re performing,” he affirms. “End of discussion.”

Kevin goes back to his sandwich, and Archie knows that _this_ is a fight he’s lost.

 

 

 

 

“Secretary?” Veronica whispers, staring at the picture zoomed-in on Jughead’s phone, stunned.  They’re between bookshelves in the library downtown, the place where they could meet halfway without bumping into someone. Their chests are going up and down as they breathe heavily. “It would take _years_ for someone to be worthy of that title.”

Jughead’s jaw is clenched, brows furrowed together. The pictures are clear as day, though – a leather jacket with a two-headed Serpent patched on its back and another patch around the front pocket, where the word _SECRETARY_ sticks out in white against the black fabric. “I don’t know, Veronica,” he whispers back. “I have literally no idea how a biker gang deals with hierarchy.” 

“No, it _would_ take years,” she says, firmly, taking a book from her school backpack, and showing him the cover. “I’ve been doing some research. If this jacket is your father’s, he’s like, the third in the Southside Serpents’ hierarchy. To reach this level of authority so fast… Are you sure it’s his jacket?”

Jughead takes a deep breath and keeps his phone in his pocket. It’s one of her old iPhones, something she gave him when she realized he was using a cheap model that should have been buried ten years earlier. Jughead was reluctant to accept it at first, but when she mentioned the need for pictures and evidence, he changed his mind.

“I told you. He got home drunk the other night and tried to hide the jacket under the couch before he passed out.”

Veronica bites on her lower lip, head racing with thoughts while Jughead flips the pages of the book she showed him. Simple googling would have worked, too, but Veronica had always believed in the power of printed research. “Well, my dad kind of threatened yours when he asked for the rest of the money. He said that your dad shouldn’t let _them_ forget who was keeping them out of jail.”

Jughead’s eyes stay on the book. “My dad could have become the secretary because he’s your dad’s trusty man inside the Serpents. But who is _them_ , though? All of the gang? The president and the vice-president?”

“These guys don’t ride around the Southside with their jackets on? It shouldn’t be hard for you to find out who’s in charge of–”

“It’s not like that, okay? We live in Chicago, for God’s sake. My neighborhood is huge, and no, they don’t… ride around. Yeah, you see them with their bikes every now and then, but they’re very discreet. Sweet Pea told me they hang out in this bar, the Whyte Wyrm, which is a headquarter of sorts, but it’s not like I can just waltz into it and ask who’s in charge and if he’s been paid off by Hiram Lodge.”

Veronica’s stomach twists into a knot, and she hides her face in her hands, head starting to hurt. “We need to sit down and write down everything we know. And since my parents aren’t really giving me anything, I think I’ll change my approach. I think I’ll ask them about your dad, if he’s still looking for a job and why they had to let him go. This way, we can see which excuses they come up with. Did you talk to your mom already?”

Jughead looks around, hands in his pockets, and he looks a little nervous. There aren’t all that many people in the library, on a late Monday afternoon.  Though nobody seems really interested in them, the silence is a little unnerving. “We’re being stupid, talking about this here,” he says. “Everybody knows this kind of stuff needs to be discussed where there’s a lot of noise.”

Veronica agrees, but she does notice it’s the second time Jughead avoids any questions about his mother. “Okay, let’s just renew those, and we can find a Starbucks or something.”

“Acoustic guitar in the background of a wannabe hipster coffee shop hardly qualifies as a lot of noise,” Jughead says, as they approach the librarian.

Veronica rolls her eyes. “You are so annoying. I wonder which kind of drugs Archie was on when he thought we could be dating,” she whispers back, in a playful tune. The librarian throws them an annoyed glance, to which Veronica responds with a sweet, pointed smile.

Jughead only talks again when they’re out the room, heading downstairs. “Is he a good guy?” he asks. “He seems nice, but then again I just talked to him twice. Betty seems to be a big fan, though.”

There’s a tiny bit of jealousy in Jughead’s voice. For a moment, it gets Veronica hopeful for Betty – Jughead had always been so discreet about his feelings that some would think they weren’t there, but Veronica knew better. She still remembers sophomore year; Betty spent it dating Trev Brown and Jughead would just state, time and time again, that Trev was a good guy and that Betty deserved to be treated right.

Veronica understood it better than she wanted to, how it was easier to stay away from someone than to set them up for an inevitable heartbreak that would come with letting them in.

She inhales deeply before answering. “Yeah,” she says, quietly, her legs feeling kind of jittery. She might have been wary of Archie for the past month, but some things were undeniable: the fact that even though he had all the reason to do it, he never took that picture or sign to Wetherbee to try and get Reggie suspended, or how he always asked with his eyes if it would be okay with her for him to get closer to his own friends if they were hanging out with her. How he had given her the space she asked for, and, above all, how he hadn’t mentioned what he witnessed in her house to anyone. “Archie is nice.”

Veronica is heading towards the door, so they can leave the library, when Jughead holds her wrist to make her stop. She turns around to look at him, and his expression has shifted into something really serious. “Look, I know you guys are just friends again, and I don’t wanna lie to her, but we can’t tell Betty what’s going on,” he says. “If we’re getting involved in something that could be dangerous, I don’t want her near this kind of shit.”

Veronica nods, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. “Yeah,” she agrees. “No one needs to know. But we _need_ to come up with an excuse for spending time together, Jug. We have never been the greatest of friends, and if someone sees us hanging out…”

Jughead lets go of her wrist, clenched jaw. “The help you offered. The college stuff. I’ll take it. I’ll tell Betty I asked you because I was ashamed of telling her about what’s really going on at home,” he breathes. “It’s not a lie, anyway.”

 

 

 

 

Betty thinks it’s great he’s going to (unwillingly) take part in Kevin’s Variety Show – it might even open Mr. Stuart’s eyes and maybe he’ll give Archie a chance at the music program, which would look good on his transcript.

He’s a little nervous about the whole thing, even though he has around two weeks to prepare himself – music had always been something… private. If he was part of the music program, he’d be learning a little more and playing with a group, working on his – quite tone deaf, to be honest – singing voice. It was different than going up on stage alone with a spotlight on him and sharing this passion with everyone else, a love he discovered around the same time he started seeing Geraldine, because she was so driven by it.

It was something in common, something they shared, and after everything fell apart, Archie kept wondering if he _was_ actually good at it, or if that was just something Geraldine would say to make him feel better.

He brings his concerns to Ms. Baker in his first session of October, a week after he first told her about his relationship with Geraldine.

“Is she the only thing you associate with music?” Ms. Baker asks, pointedly.

It gets Archie thinking for a little while. “No. My dad is really into music, had a band in high school and all. We had all these instruments lying around at home,” he says, sitting on the comfy couch, staring at the shadow patterns the half-opened blinds cast on the carpet. “He’s a classic rock kind of guy. When he and my mom got divorced, he used to listen to this Queen song, you know that really sad one? _Love of My Life_?”

“Oh, that song is devastating,” Ms. Baker says with fondness in her voice. “He must have been pretty sad at the time.”

“Yeah,” Archie sighs, “I was about twelve, I think. Anyway, he listened to that song so many times that I learned the chords. I just… learned them. I got his old guitar and started playing, but I… I don’t know. I didn’t tell anyone I could do it. Not until sophomore year.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I always sucked at English and Math, and everything except PE, so I felt kind of bad that I could play guitar but not solve an equation to save my life.”

“And in sophomore year…?”

Archie takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Geraldine,” he starts in a quiet voice, staring at his hands on his lap. “She noticed that I missed chords on purpose during the music classes, and kind of took an interest in me, I think, even before we started everything. I don’t remember it very well, to be honest.”

He wishes he could remember the first time he saw Geraldine, the clothes she was wearing or how sweet her voice sounded as she said hello to the class, but he really doesn’t. His memories of her are all a little confusing, violins and laughter, birds chirping and the river flowing, hot moans, bones inside of him cracking, and a whole lot of pain.

“Well, you associate music with your previous relationship, and with your father’s pain. I understand why you might not be so sure if you’re _really_ good at it,” Ms. Baker says, giving him a knowing smile. “But from where I’m standing, you learned by yourself how to play _Queen_ when you were twelve-years-old. Say that out loud.”

He really doesn’t want to, feeling his face heat up, but the therapist keeps on looking at him as if she was expecting something, and he gives in. “I learned by myself how to play Queen when I was twelve-years-old.”

“That sounds _very_ Variety Show worthy to me.”

 

 

 

 

Veronica is finishing up her homework at the dining room table. Her phone won’t stop buzzing with new texts – Betty and Kevin are planning, at the same time, Kevin’s annual Variety Fiasco _and_ what to do for Jughead’s 18 th birthday (which is actually tomorrow but would be celebrated on Saturday night). Veronica stopped following their conversation when they settled on _Inner Circle @ Lou’s_. She wants to remind them that Jughead hates his birthday (just like he hates everything else), but she also doesn’t care – it’s been a long day of trying to figure out how the hell FP Jones became _third_ in the Serpent’s hierarchy.  She’s tired.

She remembers how, about a month ago, the chat buzzing with texts was the one she shared with Cheryl, who couldn’t stay two whole hours without texting her something. Veronica’s seen Cheryl at cheer practice, as usual, but after their conversation before the game, the red haired girl seemed to be even colder than she was before. On top of being exhausted about everything, the distance between them was something that kept hovering in the back of Veronica’s mind.

And Veronica _had tried_. She’d tried twice. It just wasn’t fair that she couldn’t one-hundred percent enjoy being friends with Betty again because Cheryl thought she shouldn’t – what did she want, anyway? Veronica would gladly apologize for lying about Reggie, but she couldn’t apologize for wanting Betty back in her life. The _three_ of them were inseparable once. Why couldn’t they just be friends again?

She’s staring at her homework, lost in her thoughts, when she hears movement at the front door, followed by heels clacking against the wooden floor. Veronica sits up straighter in her chair when she sees her mother come into the dining room, looking impeccable even after a long day of work.

“Mija,” Hermione says, leaving her coat and purse on the table, approaching Veronica to run a hand through her dark hair. It makes Veronica shiver. “Todavía no has terminado con tu tarea?”

“I had cheer practice, and then I went to the library,” Veronica answers, conscious that she sounds more tired than she’d like. The tune definitely gets her mother a little concerned because she frowns and pulls out a chair to sit with her at the table. “I’ll finish it up in a bit.”

“Need some help? I was the queen of algebra, once.” Hermione smiles. Veronica tries to smile back, too, but it comes out too weak. She really didn’t want her mother to be guilty in this whole situation with the Serpents, but she knows Hermione is involved too. It gives her a bad taste in her mouth. “Okay,” Hermione seems to notice. “Lo que te molesta? It’s not algebra.”

Veronica looks at her mother and takes her glasses off. Sooner or later, she’d need to have this conversation with her parents, and there’s no time like the present. “Why did you fire Mr. Jones?” she asks, brows puckered together, and she can see that it catches Hermione off guard. “Daddy said that he _knew too much_ , but what did he know?”

“Details, Veronica. Passwords, important dates… We had to change everything after Alice Cooper made up that we were involved in fraud and embezzlement, and, unfortunately, FP knew too much about what happened in our company,” she says, in such a firm and convincing voice, that if Veronica didn’t know more, she’d believe her. “Why do you ask?”

She plays her part just as well. “It’s Jughead’s birthday tomorrow, and I keep remembering that he’s living in a shared house, in a very dangerous neighborhood, and going to a horrible school, mom. Mr. Jones was in our company for over ten years. What if he never finds a job again? No podemos ayudarlos?”

Hermione does exactly what Veronica expects her to do – she looks at her daughter with soft brown eyes, and, rather than answer Veronica’s questions, she puts a hand on her face and offers her something in a very condescending way, “Tienes un gran corazón, mija. But your father and I did everything in our power to ensure that FP Jones had what he was entitled to, according to the law. What he did with it… It’s not on our hands. Our involvement with the Joneses is over now.”

Veronica feels sick, but she does her best to keep a straight face. “We don’t lie to each other, right, mom?”

Hermione looks at Veronica, a little confused. “Of course not, mija. Why would you ask me this?”

“I’m friends with Betty Cooper again,” Veronica says blatantly, not because it would stir any fear inside her mother, but because it was _one more thing_ she’d been hiding for someone – one more secret she had to keep. Since her parents were, indeed, lying about everything to her face, it was just too much to deal with. “And I know her family betrayed us, but I’m giving her a second chance. Sooner or later you were going to find out, and I’d rather you hear it from me.”

Hermione’s expression softens again, and Veronica hates it. She hates it so much. “It’s okay, mija. Betty is a good girl,” she says, touching Veronica’s face one more time before getting up. “We all need some goodness in our lives. Just be careful… Sometimes, we trust people too much.”

Veronica gives Hermione a smile that she’s quite sure is not reaching her eyes, but her mother doesn’t really seem to notice. She wonders how it feels for her, to stand there and talk about trust and goodness like it was something running naturally in Lodge blood.

Deep down, Veronica almost wishes she was born to another family.

 

 

 

 

Following Ms. Baker’s advice, Archie takes his guitar to school the next day. People do seem a little curious about it, but they stop looking once Cheryl Blossom starts giving out flyers that announce the Variety Show happening in a couple of weeks. She gives one out to Archie, telling him she drew them herself. She seems really proud of them, but Kevin is still very much suspicious about her contribution.

“Look at how good these are, Kev,” Archie tries, showing Kevin the flyer again, once she leaves. The art is actually pretty neat, a white prancing horse on a stage with maroon curtains. Archie had no idea Cheryl could draw, but he supposes there’s a lot he doesn’t know about her. “Why would she draw these if it was just one big scheme?”

Kevin is still very much suspicious about Archie’s involvement with Cheryl, too--and it shows on his face--but Archie can tell he’s trying to shake it off. “Oh, sweet summer child,” Kevin sighs. “Everything with Cheryl is a scheme.”

Archie laughs, and wonders if Kevin is right, wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to understand why Cheryl had a break down after that game, but she hasn’t mentioned it. Even though she seemed to be everywhere he went, he wasn’t going to push it.

He has some time to spare between the last period and the beginning of his tutoring sessions, so he tells Kev he'll find a bench in the school gardens, somewhere that seems quiet, isolated and inspiring. When he finds it, he starts plucking chords here and there, trying to come up with something.

The last thing he had really written was a few verses after he saw Veronica Lodge for the first time, which feels like a million years ago, given how intense everything unfolded afterward. Of course, _that_ song he couldn’t sing in an auditorium full of people, and he couldn’t – didn’t want to – sing the things he wrote back in his hometown.

The quietness gets to him, and he feels the right set of chords coming to his fingers. He starts singing softly, _“Do you wanna be… The one who points and blames? That makes us feel many things… Cause in a word I can’t explain why it hurts so much, you see. We weren’t born with all this pain…”_

He’s beginning to think he was a different person in Riverdale, living an extraneous life, or maybe he was just starting to be himself. _Trying_ to find out who really was.

_"I’ll try… I’ll try… To let go. Let it roll right off my back.”_

Archie sings softly, mostly to himself, his eyes closed as he attempted to feel the music flowing inside of him, and boy, how it did. There was no feeling like it, how connected his hands seemed to be with the chords and how his blood ran in the same rhythm as the sound. It was a five-senses kind of thing. He could breathe the music in the air, taste the words he was singing, and basically–

“Wow,” he opens his eyes when he hears someone saying that, and his heart probably skips a beat when he realizes that Veronica is standing right in front of him, wearing a pleated black skirt with a purple sweater tucked in it, black tights on her legs and ankle boots on her feet. She’s smiling a little, one hand wrapped around the strap of her backpack. “Now I feel embarrassed that you saw me playing the piano.”

 _I thought you were still into Veronica_ , Archie hears Kevin’s voice echoing in his mind, and he doesn’t know what to do. He had definitely waited the whole month for her to come talk to him – their little talk before the game on Friday had been something, but it had also been nothing, only left him wanting more chances. And there it was, a new chance in a lipgloss shy smile, smelling so good he could feel from where he was sitting.

“Hey,” he says, because he really doesn’t know what else he could say. Her shoulders tremble a little, like she’s trying to hold some giggling – he wants to set his guitar aside, but he also does not remember the guitar even exists.

“Kevin told me you’d be here.” She adjusts the strap on her shoulder. “Care if I join you?”

“Oh, no,” Archie shakes his head, and slides a bit to his right, giving her more space to sit beside him on the bench–a solid foot space between them, but still, closer than they had been during the whole month. “I was, uh, practicing.” He shows her the guitar.

Veronica tugs her hair behind one of her ears, and he notices the little pearl she’s wearing as an earring. “So, have you _wooed_ a lot of girls singing _Wonderwall_ to them at a bonfire or something?”

Archie blushes, but at this point, she should be used to it already. “I’m a _More Than Words_ kind of guy,” he says, smiling a little, aiming for levity.

Her shoulders do that thing again, where they rise up slightly and tremble as she laughs a little. She glances at him, and he realizes the smile in her eyes is matching the one on her lips; however, it all fades away too fast. There’s a lot of heaviness around them, and Archie doesn’t know what to do with it.

Luckily, she speaks first, smile fading a little on her lips. “Yesterday my mom was talking about how we all need some goodness in our lives, and it made me… I just kept thinking about you,” she blows out a breath. “I owe you an apology,” she says, firmly but very quietly.

Archie frowns, confused, finally setting his guitar down. He opens his mouth to ask her _why_ , but he spent the last month just waiting for the moment she’d let _him_ say something. So, he can’t help but let out, “Wha– _Ronnie_ , I was the one who fucked up. I should have never said anything about you or Jughead to anyone. I was just trying to–”

“You were loyal to Betty then, Archie,” Veronica interrupts him, and Archie realizes his heart is beating a little too fast. “And even though it took me a while to realize it, you’ve been loyal… to me, too. You could’ve tried to screw Reggie over by using that picture. Or, you could’ve spread lies about what happened between us, and you didn’t.” She looks at him.

He looks back at her. “I would never.”

“I know,” she offers him a smile. “Sorry for thinking you would have. I guess I’m just not wired to expect people to be good.”

Archie thinks this is all a mistake – he should be the one apologizing: how could she even think she did something wrong? – but he supposes that if Veronica is finally talking to him again, if she has found in her heart that he is worthy of a second chance, he should take what he can get. He takes a deep breath, and he just now realizes that he had been holding the oxygen inside of him for the past month when he exhales.

She looks down again; her hair is so black that not even the orange, autumn sun can change that, but her skin shines gold.

“Also…” Veronica goes on, and one of her hands travels towards her pearly necklace, something, Archie has noticed, she almost never takes off, not even during cheer practice. “I know you probably don’t remember anything that happened when we were at my house, but–”

She’s kidding, right? She had to be. How could he _not_ remember, the way her kiss tasted or how her body felt against his and under his fingertips, the little noises coming from the bottom of her throat? How could he forget the scent of her sweet perfume, or her teeth rasping the skin of his neck? Archie could replay that night in his head, bit by bit, and its disastrous ending didn’t prevent his body from knowing all of that by heart.

This time Archie interrupts her, placing one hand on her wrist, just barely touching her. The buzz, the electricity, it’s still the same. He knows she feels it too. It’s just _there_. “Trust me,” he says, softly, “I remember.”

Veronica bites the corner of her lower lip when she looks at him, delicately pulling her arm away from him, placing her other hand on the spot he’d just touched. “What you heard, that night,” she murmurs, and now that he’s looking closely, he notices that she has just a hint of tiredness under her eyes. He nods, so she knows he’s aware of what she’s talking about. “Thank you for not telling anyone about it.”

Archie’s expression shifts into something a little more focused. “Is everything okay at home?”

“As okay as it will ever be,” she says, breathing out, sounding tired. He wants to ask more questions; he wants to step up and just ask if she needs any help with whatever was going on, but she’s already shifting uncomfortably in her seat. He doesn’t want to push her away again. “But I’m alright,” she reassures him, giving him another smile.

They coexist in silence for a moment, long enough for Archie to pick up his guitar again, only so he can do something that will prevent him from continuing to stare at her. The garden plants are already drying up, fading into different colors. Archie wonders what it all means – are they friends again? Had they been friends before? He’s not really sure, since they’d only spoken twice before losing themselves in each other’s mouths.

He strums one chord and then another, guitar resting in his lap.

“What were you playing when I got here?” Veronica asks, all of a sudden, resting one elbow on her knee and her face on her hand. She turns her head to look at him, and her hair looks like a black satin curtain.

“Just pouring my soft, tortured side into some lyrics.” Archie laughs a little, just because she does as well. “At least, that’s how Kevin put it.”

“So, you were singing something you wrote?” Veronica asks, still looking at him, and she seems to be vaguely impressed. Archie feels his cheeks heat up again and nods. “That’s incredible, Andrews.”

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, his mouth making a bashful shape. “Thanks, Ronnie.”

Veronica starts moving so she can leave, and Archie watches as she puts her backpack back on one of her shoulders and runs a hand through her silky hair, throwing it a bit to  the side. His mouth is a little dry. “Well, now that we cleared the air between us, you can try and not throw basketballs at me during your games, okay?”

Archie laughs despite himself. She gets up to leave, adjusting her sweater and skirt, and his eyes follow her down the wilting garden as she walks away. Veronica looks over her shoulder and smiles, exactly like she did when they first talked at the Jazz Festival.

He was doomed. That girl would be his downfall.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i'm so sorry i didn't answer your comments from the last chapter, but i had a reaaaally long day and i wrote a lot, and i have a headache, so i promise i'll answer them soon, okay?
> 
> a lot of people got so angry with me last chapter (re: cheryl), so i hope this one can soothe your minds a little. as i've been saying, i do have a plan and it's coming together. i had to cut some stuff out of this chapter because i changed my mind regarding something (probably just added another chapter to the list lol), so that's why it's a liiiittle bit smaller than the others, 6K words.
> 
> this chapter we have: insight on our favorite characters! what's cheryl's endgame? the variety show is coming! wtf is going on with jughead's dad? the return of the therapist! the return of hermione! and, finally, archieronnie take the first step towards a beautiful..... friendship?
> 
> as always, the feedback for this story (good or bad) means the WORLD to me, and i'm so glad you're trusting me in this journey. thank you! special thanks to my best friends (livia, lally and andre) who put up with my crazy plots, and to my rockstar beta, nicole, who has turned this story into something GREAT. thank you girls!
> 
> song at the beggining is "petrified heart" by mt. warning. archie sings his own song, "i'll try."


	14. Chapter 14

_and I forgive you, but I can't forget you_

 

 

 

 

It takes Veronica quite a while to walk into Lou’s.

She spends almost five minutes staring at its doors and windows, more nervous than she thought she would be. That place was a strong reminder of different times – milkshakes while wrapped up in Reggie’s embrace, Cheryl eating her favorite apple pie, late breakfast with her parents when they were craving something a little more _mundane_. It was where she, Betty, and Cheryl would sit together to gossip, where she and Cheryl would roll their eyes at Jughead’s arrival.

Things have changed, again and again, since the last time she’s been there. Somehow, walking into Lou’s would be like signing a contract, a document acknowledging that nothing will ever be the same again.

Veronica takes a deep breath and pushes the door. The place is crowded, as usual, buzzing with conversation, the sound of things being fried, and waiters walking around with trays, wearing vintage uniforms and braids in their hair.

Of course, Betty would go for their usual table. Jughead notices her first, beanie-less for once – he gives her a small, recognizing smile. It’s so weird that she’s willingly coming to a birthday party that he’s willingly throwing. It’s just another sign of how things have changed.

“V!” Betty’s face lights up when she spots her, and her easy, bright smile makes Veronica feel a little more comfortable. Veronica approaches the table with a grin on her face. Betty’s gotten up so she can hug her. “You made it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she says, and it’s a bit sarcastic, but it makes Jughead chuckle. She ends up laughing too. “Feliz Cumpleaños, Torombolo.”

 _Torombolo_. She used to call him that when they were little, before _Jughead_ was even a thing. He rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Veronica.”

She sits on the other side of the booth, even though the booth can fit three people on each side. Betty and Jughead are obviously sitting next to each other, and they look a lot like a couple on a date: Betty’s hair is only half-up, waves carefully falling on her shoulders, and she’s wearing a satin tank top with flowers printed on it, almost the same color as her light pink cardigan. She’s so cute, and Jughead’s not looking bad either, with his hair falling over his forehead and a simple denim jacket over a black t-shirt.

“So,” she asks, sliding on the blue leather seat towards the wall, “who did we invite to this thing? I’m not gonna hang around you two looking like a third-wheel.”

Jughead makes a face between a frown and a smile. Betty’s cheeks turn the same color of her lipstick, but she sounds very excited when she speaks, “Arch and Kevin are gonna be here anytime soon. I told Juggie to invite Jellybean, but–”

“I already agreed to this whole party thing. You can’t harass me for not wanting my thirteen-year-old sister around,” he says, smiling at Betty, but Veronica can’t help but find it a bit weird. Jughead had never complained about his sister tagging along before, not even when she was a little kid who was _always_ crying and actually disturbed the peace. “Plus, she wouldn’t be allowed in the mov…”

“Movies?” Veronica frowns. Betty scratches the back of her neck, sheepish, and Veronica’s mouth hangs open. That sneaky little… “Oh.”

“Betty invited me to watch Blade Runner! They’re doing a double session at the AMC tonight, the 1982 classic followed by the 2049 premiere.”

Jughead smiles, seeming excited. It’s sweet, almost childish, and Veronica can’t remember the last time she’s seen him smile like that, like he wasn’t being bombarded with the fact that his father was almost leading a biker gang. Whatever effect Betty had on him, it was real. _We need some goodness in our lives_ , the line that had followed her through the whole week, comes back resonating in her brain.

“Well, Ryan Gosling is a babe,” Veronica teases, slightly kicking Betty’s calf underneath the table. The blonde girl clears her throat, and shrugs a little, her eyes stuck on the menu. “But young Harrison Ford,” she sighs dreamingly, only to annoy Jughead, “nothing can beat _that_.”

“Oh, look, Betts! Your friend,” Jughead says, all of a sudden, looking somewhere over her head. Veronica turns around and spots Archie Andrews at the diner’s door looking a little lost, wearing a mustard hoodie and dark jeans, hands in his pockets, messy red hair, _almost_ beating a young Harrison Ford. Something happens in her stomach, but it’s probably just hunger.

Archie spots her after a beat – spots _them_ , actually, but his eyes do meet hers first – and he smiles as he approaches their table. Veronica sits up straighter, grabbing a menu too.

Five days ago, she’d found him in the school gardens, strumming a guitar like he was born attached to it. He had forgiven her for being such a judgmental bitch, and they had interacted throughout the week, stolen glances and smiles at school, _“good morning”_ by the lockers and “ _see you”_ after his practice and before hers. Meeting him outside of school, however, was something completely different. He was part of her life now, and she didn’t know why that was a little scary.

(But she did know why. It was just someone else she was letting into her messy life without warning, someone else that could get caught in the painful aftermath. Maybe everybody needed it, but Veronica felt guilty and selfish for _wanting_ that goodness around her; she felt responsible for the inevitable fallout. When she found him singing in the gardens, he was singing about not _being born with all this pain,_ and she wonders what kind of pain; what could have happened and why was he still so earnest, so happy to exist even after experiencing it?)

“Hey!” Archie says happily when he reaches their table, and the three of them end up smiling as they greet him – he had such an uplifting presence, a sweetness carved into his features, just like Betty. “Happy birthday, man!” He says, reaching a hand towards the birthday boy.

“Thanks, _man_ ,” Jughead gets up so he can shake Archie’s hand, but the redhead ends up pulling him to a brief hug, complete with _bro_ -taps on his back. Both Veronica and Betty laugh a little, taking in Jughead’s panicky expression.

Archie smiles at Veronica for the briefest second, as if he was asking to sit beside her – it was the obvious seat, across from Jughead. She smiles back with a nod, and he sits right next to her, legs a little spread in that way boys sit, his denim slightly brushing against the side of her semi-bare thigh.

She wonders if she should cross her legs and pull them away from him, but she figures that if they’re really going to friends, they better get used to the way their bodies seemed to react to each other. It was normal, to be attracted to a friend; it was just matter of not acting on it. “I thought Kevin was with you?” she asks, knowing that Kevin was his next door neighbor.

“Kevin is…” Archie starts, and he looks at Betty for a moment. “He got tangled up in something. But he’ll be here in no time, I’m sure.”

“Tangled up… In the sheets with a hunk?” Veronica asks, lifting one eyebrow. Both Jughead and Betty laugh, and Archie’s cheekbones turn red as usual, though he’s chuckling as well. Refreshingly enough, that boy was a _horrible_ liar. “Kevin is doing better than us this Saturday night, then.”

“C’mon, Veronica,” Jughead says, with laughter in his voice. “I’m sure he’s _coming_ already.”

“ _Oh my God,_ ” Betty squeals, hiding her face in her hands, and Veronica cracks up despite herself. In her peripheral vision, she can see Archie laughing beside her, with his whole body like he seems to do, one hand against his stomach.

“Please, let’s order some fries,” she says, still laughing, grabbing the menu again. “I can’t think about that with an empty stomach.”

 

 

 

 

Kevin does show up, about thirty minutes after the agreed time, and Veronica is a little taken aback by the fact that the  _hunk_ following him is _Moose Mason_. She can’t hide her surprise, brows furrowing together, and Moose also seems a bit startled to see her there.

“Veronica?” he asks, frowning as if it was weirder for _her_ to be there than _him_. She doesn’t mind Moose – he’s good friends with Reggie, which means that before the breakup they were always double-dating with Midge and him, and he has a good heart.

“Hi… Moose,” she says, her confused expression mimicking him.

“Uh, _Jug Head_. Happy birthday,” Moose says nervously, finally glancing away from Veronica, after they both silently established that this was a hell of a weird gathering.

“Gee, you have less social skills than a piece of driftwood,” Kevin says, and then smiles towards Jughead, who’s slowly chewing on his onion rings, definitely surprised that one of the most popular guys in his former school is at his birthday celebration. “Congratulations, Jug! I see that this is the year you’ve taken my advice to heart and stopped wearing that horrible beanie.”

“Thanks, Kevin, but the beanie is not going anywhere. I promised myself that it’ll only be gone when I turn twenty-one.”

Kevin sighs, defeated, sitting right next to Jughead. Moose takes the empty seat across from him, besides Archie, who has been weirdly focused on his exquisite ensemble of various sauces to dip his fries in.

“Moose, where’s Midge?” Veronica asks, out of sheer curiosity. It’s not weird that Moose and Kevin are hanging out – they had a bunch of classes together and were lab partners – but she does find the girl’s absence a bit odd.

“She’s spending the weekend with her grandparents in Minnesota,” he answers, trying to act natural “Kev invited me here, so I’m sorry I’m crashing your… party, uh. _Jug Head._ ”

“Nonsense,” Betty replies, sweetly, mainly because Jughead’s in the middle of a mouthful of food. “The more the merrier!” she says, and Jughead gives her a look he can’t hide. She ignores it, smiling brightly. “Are you guys having a _boy’s only_ weekend, then?”

Maybe it’s the way that she says it, but Archie chokes on his fry and has to take a sip of his Oreo Milkshake.

 

 

 

 

Even though it’s not a very usual grouping of people, at least not in Veronica’s eyes, they fall into surprisingly easy conversation, Moose blending in quite well after the initial shock, especially when the four boys find out that they’re all big fans of _Avatar: The Last Airbender_. Veronica and Betty listen to their excited re-telling of that story, laughing at how each one of them has a different opinion on some parts of the plot. Veronica feels lighter than she’s been in a long time and thinks that maybe changing doesn’t have to be so bad.

They leave before they crash into a sugar coma, and Veronica hugs Betty tightly before letting her go with Jughead to the movies, throwing both a knowing glance. Kevin, Moose and Archie are discussing their next whereabouts – Archie appears to be going home, and the other two are thinking about going to a pub and putting their fake IDs to good use.

“I think I’m going home as well,” she says, getting her phone from her purse. “I’ll call an Uber.”

“What? Archie can drive you.” Kevin places a hand over her phone. Veronica frowns, and glances at Archie, who seems a little surprised with that intervention as well. “You're with your stepdad's truck, right?”

“Oh.” It seems like that’s all Archie has to say about that for a moment, but then some sort of realization hits him. “I mean – yeah, Ronnie,” he turns to her, a little fidgety. Veronica curls her lips into a small smile that she can’t control. “I can definitely drive you, if you don’t mind walking a couple of blocks so we can get to the car.”

She’s wearing high heeled boots, though they’re comfortable enough for a short walk, but Veronica doesn’t even have the time to agree before Kevin places a hand on her back to steer her towards Archie’s side. “Of course, she doesn’t mind!”

Archie’s glance meets hers. They are both aware of what Kevin is trying to do, and on any other day, it would definitely anger Veronica – as if she would allow anyone to make decisions in her place, but it doesn’t seem like a bad idea. “Apparently, I don’t mind,” she says, rolling her eyes and laughing, and he chuckles as well, his hands fidgety in his hoodie pockets.

There’s an awkward beat of silence in which the four of them look at each other – would Moose say something to Reggie? Would he distort the truth and make it look like she went home with Archie for another reason? Did she care? – but it’s over when Kevin leans in to kiss her cheek.

“See you on Monday, sweetie,” he says, and Moose and Archie shake hands too. “You better text me if there’s any tea in the Blade Runner recap."

 

 

 

 

Kevin and Moose go the other way, and Archie is left with Veronica. It’s the first time they’re alone since the whole apology talk last Tuesday, and even though they did interact throughout the week, he still feels somewhat nervous around her.

“Kevin’s so obvious,” Veronica smiles as she crosses her arms in front of her chest as they head to the spot he parked the truck.

“He sure knows what he wants,” he says, chuckling.

“You didn’t have to take me home,” she says, after a moment of quietness. “I know it’s out of your way.”

Archie glances at her. They’re walking against the light, cold wind, and her dark hair is flying out around her face. She looks as beautiful as ever, wearing something slightly different from what he sees her in at school – a black leather skirt paired up with a cropped, cherry color sweater and knee-high boots. It’s true – his building is only a few blocks away, whereas the Pembrooke is up north, almost a thirty-minute drive without traffic – but he supposes he’d be a complete idiot if he passed up the chance to spend a few moments in her company.

“Nah,” he half-shrugs, smiling. “How lame would I be if I went home at eleven on a Saturday night? Eleven-forty is a lot edgier.”

She laughs, looking down at the sidewalk, and their footsteps end up falling into sync before they reach the truck. Archie opens the passenger’s side door for Veronica, an unthought chivalrous gesture that she kind of grins at. “Such a gentleman, Archibald,” she says, and the look she throws him before getting inside the truck makes his face warm up.

“Buckle up,” he tells her once he’s in his seat too, turning the car on and adjusting his mirrors. They’re not that close to each other now that they’re inside the car – in the diner, once Moose arrived, Archie’s legs and arms were always brushings hers – but with the windows closed, he can smell her sweet perfume if he breathes deeply enough.

“So much for being edgy,” she mocks, but puts her seatbelt on.

They start driving down the West Jackson Boulevard, the radio playing softly in the background. Veronica rests her head against the window, watching the city lights fly by them. Archie glances over at her from time to time. The fact that they are on good terms again, and that she’s giving him another chance to get to know her, fills him with a warmth he doesn’t think he’s experienced before.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks when they stop at a red light.

“Yeah,” she smiles, softly, “I hadn’t been to Lou’s since forever. It became sort of off-limits when Betty and I had that fight.”

“When I moved here, it was the first place Kevin took me to,” Archie says, eyes shifting between the road and Veronica. “Betty was there too. I assumed she was Kev’s girlfriend, and I felt so bad because I thought she was pretty.”

“Oh, so you had a crush on her?” Veronica teases.

His ears heat up. “Wha– _no_ , not really. Only for ten minutes, I suppose. I took her home that day. We rode a bus together. She kept pointing out buildings and telling me the street names, explaining the city’s history.” Archie smiles, wistfully. It’s been less than two months since he moved, but it feels like a lifetime ago. “It’s when I saw you, too,” he quickly looks at her, not sure if he should bring up any of their past – and how weird it was that they already had a past, some history, together.

Veronica shifts a little in her seat, but he doesn’t know if that means she’s uncomfortable with the subject. “I was with Jughead earlier on that day,” she says. “Trying to convince him that I could help him fix his future.”

That explains her name showing on Jughead’s phone that day. Archie feels like a total idiot for a second, and wonders if he would mention it; he ultimately decides against it. He’s lucky enough that she’s by his side and that they’re talking again. It’s better not to remind her of how stupid he truly is. “Betty looked happy that they were going on that date,” he decides to say, instead.

“They’re each other’s soulmates.” Veronica’s voice is soft and sweet. But when she throws him a smile that looks a little gloomy at its edges, Archie is not sure what it means. “Good for them, don’t you think?” He opens his mouth to say something, but the song on the radio changes, and Veronica almost jumps in her seat, her face twisting into a completely different expression. “Oh my God, can I turn it up?”

Archie frowns and turns the radio up, only passively recognizing the first beats of the song, but when the electric guitar starts, he can’t help but chuckle. “Really?”

She shrugs, her forefingers turning into drumsticks. _“There’s a time and a place for everything, for everyone,_ ” Veronica sings along, very quietly at first, but Archie soon realizes that her voice is not bad _at all_ ; he starts beating his thumb in the steering wheel in the rhythm of the song. _“We can push with all our might but nothing’s gonna come… Oh no, nothing’s gonna change…"_

He can’t help but join her, his cheeks warm and his chest light. “ _And if I asked you not to try, oh, could you let it be?_ ”

She smiles when she realizes he’s singing too, still air-drumming with her hands, and when they reach the bridge, Veronica sings louder, _“I wanna hold you and say! We can throw all this away! Tell me you won’t go, you won’t go, do you have to hear me say?”_

Archie is really taken aback by the reach of her voice, how good she actually sounds, and how their voices blend in together. “ _I can’t stop loving you! No matter what I say or do! You know my heart is true, oo-oh! I can’t stop loving you!_ ”

They keep on driving and singing into the night, and it’s a moment Archie thinks he’ll never forget, trying to harmonize with Veronica through his laughter, the city lights reflecting on the lake’s waters. He feels so infatuated with her in that moment, even more than he did before, even more than when they were kissing in her bedroom. It makes him wonder about soulmates and what you’re supposed to feel. It makes him wonder if one day they’ll become something important. It makes him glad that they are trying to be friends.

The Van Halen’s classic is replaced on the radio by something a lot less exciting. Veronica turns the radio down again, still laughing.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” Archie says, seeing her run a hand through her hair in his peripheral vision, dreading the fact that there’s no traffic and only green lights, that they’ll be at Veronica’s building anytime, now.

“Yeah, I used to be part of the church’s choir when I was a kid, but I didn’t grow into it,” she says, almost bashfully, but makes a face when she realizes he’s staring at her. “What, you can’t believe I went to church?”

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon, you sound really good, Ronnie.”

“Not as good as our resident Ed Sheeran.” Veronica lifts up one of her eyebrows, in that way that always makes him wonder if she’s flirting with him – this time, though, it feels a bit like she’s trying to avoid the topic.

“You don’t have to agree with me. I’m still right.” He shrugs, slowing down as they approach The Pembrooke, and she narrows her eyes at him, giving him a little punch on the arm. Archie smiles, pulling over in front of the building.

She unbuckles her seatbelt, looking at him. “Thanks for taking me home, Archiekins.”

 _Archiekins_. He chuckles, remembering that she’d call him that when they were _touring_ around Cheryl’s house that night, before they had even kissed. They stare at each other for a long moment, and she’s so pretty beneath her dark lashes, her makeup just slightly smudged at the corners. Archie wonders what it would be like to kiss her again, sober this time, her mouth tasting like milkshake instead of spiced rum. “Anytime, Ronnie."

She leans in and Archie’s heart skips a beat – she does kiss him, but on the cheek, so quick he wonders if it really happened when she pulls away, flashing him a quick smile as she opens the door. “See you on Monday.”

Veronica gets out the truck, closing its door softly. He watches her walk inside, greeting the doorman, eyes following the movement of her bare legs. Archie blows out a breath, leaning back in his seat. It’s weird, but he thinks he already misses her.

 

 

 

 

Veronica wakes up to the sound of her phone buzzing – it’s 10AM. Her chat with Betty is full of unread messages of **_wake up!!!_** and **_brunch @ eleven? nookie’s_** , and she jumps in bed when she remembers the movie date with Jughead.

 _i’ll be there!!!_ she texts Betty back and runs to have a quick shower, getting ready at the speed of light. It’s the first time in a while Veronica leaves the house without thinking about her parents’ potential criminal activities, or anything that gets her heavy and tired – she’s suddenly just a teenage girl again, hoping to spend the morning with her best friend and some good news.

It’s only a five-minute walk between The Pembrooke and this little breakfast venue, Nookie’s, the place they’d retreat to when they wanted to talk about things their parents couldn’t know. Betty’s already there when she arrives, ponytail and a baby blue sweater on, and she waves at her through the glass.

“How was the double-session with Holden Caulfield?” Veronica says after hugging Betty _hello_ , and joining her at the table by the window she’d chosen.

“We kind of had a… moment.”

“Please tell me it was a moment involving your mouths,” Veronica says eagerly. Betty lifts one shoulder in a small, shy shrug, but the curl on her lips give it away. “Oh my God, B! Swoon! How did it happen?”

The waiter approaches them, and they order some waffles and coffee before Betty can go on. “So, we left before the 2049 version finished. He was really mad, saying that the franchise was ruined, things like that.”

“Sounds like him.” Veronica smiles. “And then?”

“Hm… There were no Ubers around, and the only one I could find was about ten minutes away… So Juggie waited with me, of course, and we stood there with each other for a while. He told me that him not liking the movie had nothing to do with him not liking my gift or my company, and I was looking at him. And…” she sighs. “I don’t know, I was looking at him, and I just thought _it’s now or never_ , you know? And I… kissed him.”

“This was _so expected_ ,” Veronica says, excited, reaching out a hand to grab Betty’s. “Of course, you rocked his world, and?”

“He held my face.” Betty’s turning a little pink, and her fingers entwined with Veronica’s are warm. “I don’t know, we just kissed for a while, and… I don’t know. He took this really long breath, and my Uber arrived. I kind of had to go, but… He texted me good morning, and I think we might go out again later today. So…”

“I’m so happy for you, B! I think I might cry.” Veronica squeezes her hand. She remembers her ride with Archie last night, telling him that Betty and Jughead were soulmates, and how a weird feeling took over her, something that was almost _jealousy_. She did believe they were meant to be together, _endgame_ like Kevin would always put it, and sometimes it felt a little weird, knowing that someone so close to her had found love so easily, never had one single doubt about it. For a little while Veronica thought she had that too, with Reggie, that _something_ , but it was fading away from her heart with time. “If he hurts you I swear to God I’m going to unleash the Lodge fury over him.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Betty laughs, and she looks so bright and beautiful, something out of a fairytale, a princess awakened after her true love’s kiss. Their food arrives, and as Veronica sips on her coffee, she thinks about all the ways Jughead _could_ hurt Betty – all the little things he also knows. But if he and Betty are going to be together, there needs to be a change of plans regarding those secrets, before it all falls down. “So, how did it go with the boys yesterday? Did you just go home?”

Veronica chews slowly on her waffles. “Yeah. Kevin and Moose apparently were going to get drunk, so Archie gave me a ride.”

She tries to say it in the most natural way possible. You _could_ get a ride with a guy without it meaning anything, even if you already had made out with the guy. Plus, if Veronica herself didn’t make a big deal out of it, it wouldn’t be a big deal. She was just giving Archie another shot to be around her without any problems, and he seemed to be taking that chance in the earnest of ways.

But Betty _does_ smirk a little, one eyebrow lifting. “Oh,” she says, and Veronica can see it takes Betty a lot of composure not to tease. “That was very nice of him.”

Veronica rolls her eyes, but there’s a grin in her voice. “You and Kevin are what now? Matchmakers? You don’t even try to hide it.”

“What?” Betty asks, wearing that horrible poker face of hers. “I’m just saying that it was nice that he gave you a ride, and that you spent some time together… It’s nice that you decided that he was worth another shot… I mean, he’s nice, and I know you think he’s cute.” Veronica lifts an eyebrow, and Betty smiles.

She ends up smiling a little too, but then she sighs. “We’re just starting to get to know each other,” she says, fidgeting with the strawberries on her plate. “And I’m just… Not looking for anything like that right now. The whole thing with Reggie was so messy, and I’m not sure if I’m one hundred percent over that yet. Plus…” she stops, wondering what she _could_ tell Betty. “I don’t know. I think I could use a friend like Archie right now.”

“That’s fair,” Betty says, eating a little too, but then she giggles, making Veronica look up at her. “Can you at least tell me the truth about what _really_ happened with you two at Cheryl’s? Kevin and I have all these theories.”

“Betty Cooper!” Veronica points her fork at Betty, maybe blushing a little.

On that Sunday morning, with the sun streaming through the window, eating waffles and sharing stories with Betty, it’s one of the first moments of the year in which Veronica feels disconnected to all the things dark and dangerous that were surrounding her little by little.

 

 

 

 

It turns out that having Cheryl Blossom invested in a project meant that said project would become something  _huge_. Her flyers announcing the Variety Show are all over the school hallways and Northside Prep’s high schoolers were suddenly dying to show their hidden talents. In no-time, Kevin (who is not-so-secretly _hating_ Cheryl’s popularity) has to open a _waiting list_ for the performances, and there’s even some pondering if there should be two nights instead of one.

Archie’s got the second slot in the show order, just after Josie’s band – which has a name now, _The Pussycats_. He’s a little nervous about it, having never gone up one stage before, much less just after a bunch of really talented and pretty girls, but he knows it’s Kevin’s way of subtle retaliation after Archie accidentally got Cheryl involved in the whole thing. The song he’s been writing since that day in the gardens is coming together, though, and he takes his guitar to school every day, so he can practice in his free time.

On the Wednesday before the opening weekend, right after practice, Archie finds himself in the auditorium, guitar on his lap, and he plucks some chords here and there, passively listening to Cheryl and Kevin disagreeing about yet another thing. It’s a scene that’s become common in his daily life for the past two weeks.

“You don’t have any vision.”

“You’re the one who wants to spend our limited budget on _candlesticks_ and a _fog machine_.”

“The budget is only _limited_ because you won’t let me raise funds to make it a better show.”

“What will make it a better show is the _talent of the performers_ , not the visual effects.”

“People said the same thing about that _horrible_ Ben Affleck movie and look what happened.”

“ _Batman versus Superman?_ You can’t possibly refer to it as a _Ben Affleck movie_.”

“What do you think, Archie?”

He looks up, forehead wrinkling. Another scene that’s become common in his daily life: working as a mediator for Kevin and Cheryl’s never-ending discrepancies. He takes a deep breath, setting his guitar aside and trying to ignore the piercing eyes on him. “That movie sucked,” he aims for the lightest point of the conversation, the one that didn’t have him _picking sides_.

“This is irrelevant,” Kevin says, exasperated. Cheryl, on the other hand, curls her red lips into a little smile. She’s wearing a soft shade of blue today, which is a little different, and she looks nice. “Can you please tell her that it’s a Variety Show, not some tacky Phantom of the Opera recreation?”

Archie scratches the back of his head, not sure how he can counteract Cheryl without upsetting her. Luckily for him, the redheaded girl seems to give up, heaving an annoyed breath and lifting both her hands in the air. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care, but don’t come at me if you have nothing to save the show once the _talent_ sucks. No offense, Archie,” she quickly adds, throwing him a glance, “I know you’ll do great.”

“Thanks, Cheryl.” He laughs a little.

“Well, it looks like we’re done here,” Kevin says, closing his notebook sharply. He looks satisfied with Cheryl’s back off. “Archie, do you need to go home now? Betty invited me to eat some cinnamon buns with her and Jug, but I’m not sure if I want to third-wheel my way into their date.”

“Wait, Betty and Jughead are dating?” Cheryl asks, genuinely curious. Sometimes Archie forgets that she grew up with them; that she, Betty and Veronica once were an inseparable trio, and that she probably knew about Betty’s feelings for Jughead. Kevin huffs, still visibly annoyed. Archie watches Cheryl’s features turn into something uncharacteristically softer and remembers how distant she is from everybody else right now. “Wow, that was a long time coming.”

“Yeah, also long time _none of your business_ ,” Kevin says, a little too irritated, but his expression changes once he turns to Archie. “Do you wanna go?”

Archie clears his throat. “I was thinking about practicing some more and then heading home, Kev. Maybe we should let them have their date?”

Kevin sighs. “You’re probably right,” he says, and he looks a little morose for a second, maybe experiencing that kind of wistfulness that hits you when your best friend is serious about someone. It’s gone soon, though, as he puts his bag’s strap around his torso. “See you tomorrow then. You too, Cheryl.”

They say goodbye and watch as Kevin leaves the auditorium, and Cheryl throws herself into the seat next to Archie’s. Her mouth is a little pouty, and Archie feels like he should say something. “Sorry about that. Kev’s a little overprotective, but–”

“I know _why_ he hates me, Archie,” she interrupts him, crossing her arms in front of her body. “I wasn’t all that nice to him when he came out, _and_ he sided with Betty when she and Veronica were in a fight. So, I just kept being mean to him. It was just my way of defending Veronica.” Cheryl says, and she looks a little like the girl he met after the game that night, vulnerable and defenseless.

Archie takes a deep breath and reaches out a hand to place it on her shoulder. “Hey, things will get better, okay?” he says, and she turns her head to him. Archie tries a little smile, “You’re helping a lot with this, and I’m sure Kevin will end up appreciating your hard work. Besides, let’s be real, it probably wouldn’t be such a success if you weren’t involved.”

Cheryl looks down at the spot where his hand is touching her shoulder, and she ends up smiling back, as soft as she would ever be able to. “You’re too nice, Archie Andrews,” she says quietly, and his cheeks get a little warm. He pulls his hand away, intending to get his guitar back, when it’s her time to touch him, a hand just above his kneecap. “I know you ditched the cinnamon buns, but maybe I could entertain you with some pumpkin pie? I owe you for the pizza, that day.”

“Uh, I was really thinking about playing a bit and then going home, Cheryl,” he says, maybe a little startled by her touch.

“It’s just pie.” She says, removing her hand so she can run it through her hair, tossing it to the side a little, and the gesture makes him unexpectedly think about Veronica, who used to do that all the time. “I don’t know. At the risk of sounding _ridiculous_ , you’re the only person I can really talk to, lately, and I just don’t want to go home.”

Archie looks at Cheryl and feels some sort of empathy. Less than two weeks ago, he was the one in her shoes, feeling isolated even when surrounded by people, only having one person he could talk to. Yes, Archie was used to being alone, especially in Riverdale, after he ended up pushing all his friends away, but back then he had his secrets and his relationship to keep his mind busy – and anyway, no one deserved to feel like that, chest tightening with anxiety, wondering if everybody around hated them (or, even worse, just didn’t care about them).

Reggie still stared at him like he wanted to kill him, especially after witnessing some exchanges between Ronnie and him, but Reggie never really did or said anything. Overall, winning the game made things better with the team. Tutoring made things better with the teachers. Therapy made things better with himself, somehow, and Veronica’s second chance was something that just blended it all together. It was such a relief not to stay away from his friends because they were sitting with her, or not to find her eyes first and ask for silent permission to come closer – even though he still found her eyes first, just because she was normally the first thing he’d see in a room.

He knows Cheryl misses Veronica. _He did_ , when they weren’t on speaking terms, and he didn’t even know her that well. But having her in his life for real makes him feel so different than he did when she wasn’t around. Veronica wasn’t just beautiful; she was funny and smart, _intelligent_ in a different way, full of quick remarks. She was nice, too, willing to help him out with his grades now that _Betty will be busier_ , even volunteered to be his partner for an upcoming History project. Archie still wasn’t sure if she was trying to be just his friend, or what, but beneath the kink of her eyebrow and her flirty comebacks, he knows there’s something underneath, something he couldn’t grasp just yet.

“You know what,” Archie says, setting his guitar aside again. Beneath Cheryl’s gorgeous surface, he can see the same something underneath, and he can’t just turn away from that. She needed a friend. “Pumpkin pie sounds great, Cheryl, but I doubt it’s better than my hometown’s.”

She rolls her eyes, but he can see that she’s trying hard not to smile. “Please, sweetheart. You underestimate the Midwest."

 

 

 

 

Archie is the first person Veronica sees at school on Thursday.

He’s by his locker, with his headphones on, singing softly to whatever he’s listening to as he gets the things he’ll need for morning classes. He looks good with his messy red hair and white long-sleeved shirt, and she holds her textbooks closer to her chest, admiring him for a long moment. She’s never seen a boy look like _such_ a boy before. Reggie was undoubtedly handsome, maybe the most handsome guy she’d ever seen, but he was also so _groomed_ , so put together with his black hair slicked back and his face always perfectly shaved. Archie’s features were harder – and he had that little scar between his eyebrows – but there was something so attractive about his wrinkled T-shirts and genuine smiles, about his callous fingertips from playing the guitar.

“I know what you’re thinking,” someone says, taking her out of her haze, and she almost drops her books before she realizes it’s only Kevin. She frowns, prompting him to go on. _“How long will that stupid resolution of being just friends last?”_

Veronica laughs, rolling her eyes. “Being friends and admiring the view are completely unrelated situations,” she says, closing her own locker and glancing back to where Archie is still standing. “ _Guys_ do it all the time, and _no_ , you’re not excused just because you’re gay.”

“ _Touché_ ,” Kevin says. They have their first period of classes together, and even though it’s been more than a month now, it fills her with happiness that she and Kevin can hang out again. “So, what _were_ you thinking while you admired the view?”

“I was kind of comparing him to Reggie,” she makes a face, falling into step with Kevin, “physically. Am I a horrible person?”

“Yes,” Kevin admits, but his expression goes blank for a moment, as if he was doing a speed comparison himself. “And which Mustang is winning that horse race?”

Veronica laughs quietly – she hadn’t really concluded anything, and she’s been trying not to think too much about anyone’s body lately, because it would only leave her with an itch she couldn’t really scratch. Witnessing the very early stage of Betty and Jughead’s new relationship for the past couple of weeks, however, got her thinking back to her earlier days with Reggie, how simple and new everything was, that excitement coiling in the bottom of her core. She misses him, _a little_ , that version of him that wasn’t a misogynist jackass, and she does wonder if all the fluttering inside her when Archie Andrews is around isn’t just a form of _rebound_ reaction.

It also feels like something completely opposite, too, and she has no words to give to Kevin, except a shrug and a, “They’re probably in different categories.”

“Fair enough,” Kevin says, holding the strap of his bag. “And not to be that guy, but if there’s _anything_ there other than friendship, you might want to open your eyes to Cheryl. I know she’s your friend and all, but–”

“She’s still not talking to me, Kev,” Veronica says, sounding, and feeling, tired.

“ _Exactly,_ and she’s been all over Archie. I mean, I _assumed_ she just signed in to help me with the Variety Show because there was something going on there, but she’s helping _a little too much_? I don’t know. Call me paranoid, but what if she’s just using him to get to you somehow?”

Veronica takes a deep breath, watching Archie going down the hallway, a couple of steps in front of them, holding his guitar case, backpack thrown in the opposite shoulder. She’s very much aware that Archie can do whatever – and _whoever_ – he wants, but an uncomfortable feeling throbs in the bottom of her throat, because Kevin’s paranoia has a leg to stand on. Cheryl has always been a big schemer, and despite the way they fell apart and came together again the last month, Veronica wouldn’t want Archie to get hurt.

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Veronica says, sighing, “but we’re just friends."

 

 

 

 

Later on that day, Veronica is lying on her bed, staring at her phone. Her chat with Cheryl hasn’t seen new action since the day she tried to make conversation by asking the redhead something about the Vixens, and said message was answered in the Vixens group chat.

Veronica doesn’t really _know_ how to approach her anymore – she’s apologized more than once, and she’s offered explanations. What Cheryl really wanted, Veronica couldn’t give. What else was there? And how could she say something about Kevin’s suspicions without sounding like a jealous son of a bitch?

She drums her fingertips on the side of her phone, trying to find something to say, when there’s a knock on her door. Setting her phone aside, she prompts herself up on her elbows, just in time to see her mother’s head peeking inside the room.

“Mija,” Hermione says, and she sounds a little excited, her lips curling up in a smile. “There’s a boy here to see you. Can I tell him to come in?”

 _A boy?_ Veronica sits up on her bed, and maybe it’s because she’s been thinking about him with Cheryl, but the first person that comes to her mind is Archie. Why would he be at her house, though? They had agreed to start working on the History project tomorrow, and he probably would’ve texted her earlier before coming. She also suspects Jughead wouldn’t be stupid enough to announce himself to her parents.

“Well, yeah,” Veronica says, frowning and running her fingers through her hair just to brush it a little. She’s still wearing the same clothes she’d been to school with, but her face is probably a mess. Hermione opens the room’s door all the way, and her smile only gets bigger as she drinks in the look on Veronica’s face when she realizes that the _boy_ is no other than Reggie Mantle, carrying a big ass bouquet of red and yellow roses.

“I expect you to be a gentleman, Reginald,” Hermione says, with fondness in her voice – Veronica had almost forgotten how much Reggie had already interacted with her parents. “Leave the door open,” she says to Veronica and goes, leaving Reggie at her doorstep.

He stares at her over the bouquet – looking exactly like she thought he would look, leather jacket and hair brushed back, smooth jaw and piercing narrowed eyes – and she stares back at him, her jaw involuntarily dropping and her heart picking up its rate.

Veronica gets up almost immediately. She wants to slam the door in his face – she can’t believe her mother would ambush her like that. But, of course, her mother knew nothing about all the shit Reggie had put her through the last few months. There are a lot of things running through her mind all at once, but _what the fuck_ , _how dare you?_ and _are you crazy? Do you wanna die?_ are the winners amongst the others.

Reggie had never given her flowers before, not once during the whole time they’ve dated – he had several allergies, to the point where he would spend a lot of his time sleeping or under the haze of antihistaminic medicine when it was hay fever season. He couldn’t be around dirt, too, or eat shrimp. She can’t _believe_ he would show up with fucking flowers. She rips the bouquet out of his hands, and notices his eyes and nose are already red. He’s already sniffing.

“Are you out of your mind? You’re allergic to these things,” Veronica says, serious, taking the flowers as far away as she can. It doesn’t take two seconds for Reggie to sneeze, and Veronica knew from experience that it was the first of a long line. “Oh fuck, here we go.”

“I just came to,” he sneezes again, “apologize.”

“For what, exactly?” Veronica asks, opening her windows so there’s fresh air for him to breathe. “Punching Archie? Calling me a slut? Sleeping your way through the alphabet and rubbing it in my face? Kissing my best friend and asking her out in front of me to humiliate me? I don’t think there’s a limit to the amount of shit you’ve put me through.”

She _would_ feel a little bad for him, because every word she says is being punctuated with a sneeze or a cough, but that idiot makes it worse by scratching his eyes before washing his hands, and Veronica just _can’t believe_ this is happening. Livid, she grabs him by his jacket sleeve, and pulls him inside her bedroom, making him sit down on her bed. “I’m sorry,” Reggie says in the middle of his rhinitis crisis. “It will get bett–”

“How could you be so stupid and bring me _flowers_?” she asks, knowing that he’s not really going to answer until the attack passes. She fumbles around her drawers, feeling dumb for not throwing away all the things that reminded her of him, and even dumber for _caring_ enough to look for them. “I kept your allergy meds somewhere, because you obviously don’t have them with you.”

Reggie’s answer is a cough. She finds the well-worn carton box with his pills, checks the expiration date, and breathes in nervously as she approaches him. It’s a sublingual tablet, with fast effect, and she kept them in her drawers God knows why.

“Thanks, V,” Reggie manages to say after the tablet has melted under his tongue – he does cough and sneeze a couple more times. Veronica was mad at him before, but now she’s _fuming_.

She places two hands on his shoulders, feeling the soft leather under her palms and pushes him to lie down on her bed. The meds would kick in in no time, and he would probably feel a little dizzy. Of course, it all could’ve been avoided if he hadn’t brought her fucking flowers. Reggie touches her arms, just above her elbow, and he stares at her with his eyes and face red and swollen.

“I’ll go get you some water,” she says, grinding her teeth. “We can talk when you get better.”

But there’s no time for that. When she gets back with a tall glass of water and a box of paper tissue, after dodging the white elephant in the room as her parents followed her with their gaze, asking silent questions, Reggie is soundly asleep, his red face pressed into her satin pillowcase, heavy breathing with his mouth opened.

It’s such a familiar sign, her ex-boyfriend lying down on the same side of the bed he used to sleep in. She hates that she knows him well enough to have his fucking meds in her drawer. She hates that she ruined whatever good thing they had going on, and that he morphed into this completely different person who still looked the same lying on her bed. She bets he’ll leave the pillowcase smelling like the cologne he wears, Polo Blue, and she hates it, too.

This is about to be a long night.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo! the longest chapter in the history of lm! 8.200 words! _wow_! i loved writing this chapter, and i expect to receive some retaliation over *cough*archeryl*cough* and *cough*reggieronnie*cough*, but here we go. i'm sticking to my plan lol. how precious were archieronnie and the core four? bughead finally taking steps forward! oooh, and if anyone comes at me saying that reggie can't be that allergic, i will fight you lol i have severe allergy too and i know how he feels (falling asleep in an ex-boyfriend's room due to allergy happened to me once lol)
> 
> anyway, this thursday i'm back to my traveling for work, so i might take a little longer to take chapter 15 out of the oven, but i hope it doesn't take me that long. special thanks and kudos to my rockstar beta, nicole! thanks sweetie, you make this all much more fun.
> 
> i would also like to thank you again for the amazing support. i know it's hard to go through such a slow burn story when all you want is to see your faves together lol but i promise they'll be interacting a little bit more every chapter from now on. i hope we're in the right track, and to see you next time and in my tumblr, andsmile!
> 
> song that archieronnie sing along to is "can't stop loving you" by van halen (a CLASSIC, fred would approve) and song at the beggining is "no answers" by amber run!


	15. Chapter 15

_i'll take it one day at a time_

 

 

 

Reggie tosses and turns, jostling the mattress with his movements. Veronica has her back against the headboard, already in her silk pajamas, her legs tucked under the duvet while she reads a well-worn copy of _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_. Having him in her peripheral vision, fast asleep as she reads a book, the door of her bedroom open given house rules, makes her feel like they traveled back in time.

He wakes up with a startle, half sitting up in bed, a little confused about his whereabouts. Veronica is unbothered by him, by his sleepy face, his messy hair, by the tightening in her chest. She doesn’t take her eyes off the book. “Can you breathe?” she asks, but she doesn’t sound all that worried.

“Yeah,” he says with his voice heavy, running one hand down his face, still taking in what happened. “Fuck, what time is it?”

“Around midnight,” Veronica says. Reggie falls into bed again, swearing, both his hands on his face. “I called your parents to tell them you’re here. I figured your dad would kick your ass for breaking curfew.”

“You did?” he asks, hands still covering his face. Veronica just nods. “Ugh, I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry. Did they give you a hard time?”

“Not as hard as _my parents_ when they realized you’d be _sleeping over_ ,” she says, turning a page. Reggie looks at her, then, uncovering his face, and she can see, in the corner of her eyes, his eyebrows traveling towards his hairline. “You’re _not_ , by the way. Now that you’re awake, you can get the fuck out of here.”

Reggie heaves out a breath, sitting up in the bed. “Look, I didn’t think the flowers would– I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Oh no,” Veronica fixes her eyes on the book, but she can’t read a single word. It’s almost as if she wasn’t wearing her glasses, “I know that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re an asshole who _ruined my night_. So, if you could leave.”

Reggie sighs, running a hand through his dark hair, messing it up a little. He swings his feet to the floor, turning his back on her. She finally allows herself to glance at him, at the large frame of his shoulders sinking with some invisible weight, at the little mole he has on the back of his neck, just beneath the hairline. Veronica bites the inside of her mouth. She used to love nuzzling her face in that spot, to breathe in his scent from up close and kiss that hidden bit until he was breathing heavily.

“Okay.” After what seems like a long minute, he slightly turns his head, so he can look at her. She immediately moves her eyes back to the book. “Thanks for helping me before,” he mutters, getting up. Veronica clenches her jaw, turning one more page, even though she hasn’t read a word, and shrugs. When he moves towards the door, she dares to throw him another glance, hoping that the sight of him leaving her bedroom would feel like some sort of closure, but as soon as he puts one foot out, he stops, turning back so fast she doesn’t have the time to look away. “V, _please_. Let me talk to you.”

Veronica holds her breath at the sight of his _honest face_. She doesn’t think she can do that – not now, not with her parents suspicious in the next room, not in the middle of the night with nothing but silence around them. It was enough to have him sleeping in her bed for the past four hours. She’s angry with Reggie for coming by with _flowers_ as if they could fix anything, but she’s even angrier with herself for caring so much that she kept his medicine and _called his parents_ so they wouldn’t beat him, even after all the shit he’d put her through the past couple of months.

She sets the book down, tired, and before she can tell him to piss off, he’s coming closer to the bed again as if her lack of response meant that she would allow him to say something. He rests one knee on the edge of the mattress. “I didn’t mean to– _listen_ , I’m stupid. I don’t know who I am or what I want, and I have a lot of shit to figure out in my life. But I always thought that at least… this,” he points to the space between them, swallowing hard. “Us. I always thought that at least _this part_ of my life was safe. I never thought you were unhappy, or that you’d change your mind.”

“It wasn’t like–”

 _That_ , she means to say. _It wasn’t like that._ But he lifts a hand up, shaking his head. “And I panicked, V. I didn’t _know_ what to do when I realized that maybe you needed more from me, or from us. I don’t know. I just know that all those girls and parties and… my behavior – I was so lost. I was holding onto anything that would… reach you. And I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Veronica finally seems to exhale and realizes her throat is aching a little bit.

It’s not like she’s _surprised_ by his reasons – she _knew_ him. She knew him to the bone. It wasn’t that long ago that they were in their freshman year; he was a fourteen-year-old boy smoking weed behind the school walls, knuckles always bruised from picking up fights, and she was just rolling her eyes at him because she knew it was all a cry for attention. What truly surprises her is how tight her chest feels, beating right above her stomach.

“I wish I could just say it’s okay,” Veronica says, lower than she intended. “I knew you were lashing out. I just… I never thought you’d do it so deliberately. That you’d _pick_ your weapons against me, you know? And then you were asking Josie out, and what you did with Betty– You knew how much it would hurt me, and you did it anyway.”

Reggie looks down, his eyes even smaller, one lock of his hair falling to graze his forehead. He just nods, seeming as tired as she was feeling.

“And you punched Archie even though you were also making out with someone else at Cheryl’s party,” she keeps on talking. It seems impossible to stop now. Her voice is clogged up with some sort of wetness, something she didn’t know was choking her since before the summer. “And I kept thinking, _fuck, is he going to be this person again? Are we really going back to the Reggie who couldn’t treat anyone right?_ And then that thing in school…”

“I didn’t do that,” he interrupts her, sitting on the edge of her bed. Reggie’s expression is bared of all his defenses and sharp edges. Veronica feels her eyes welling up and holds the duvet between her fingers. “I would _never_ do that to you. I swear to God.”

“That’s not enough,” Veronica says, her eyes prickling at the corners.

“Look, V, I am responsible for all of it, okay? The girls, that stupid move with Betty, yes, I did it out of spite. I lost it. I punched Andrews, and I hate that you two seem to be on good terms now. But I– I didn’t write that about you. I wouldn’t. You _know_ I wouldn’t.”

“That’s the problem, Reggie.” Veronica feels a tear falling down her cheek and immediately wipes it away. “After everything you put me through, I _don’t_ know that.”

He sniffs again, pressing the back of his hand to his nose, and there are little bags forming under his eyes as they start watering as well – Veronica is not sure if it’s just the aftermath of his allergy attack, or what. “You know what? It’s okay if you don’t believe me,” he finally says. “I gave you all the reasons for that. And fuck, you can even ask Andrews to show that stuff to Weatherbee, if you think I should be punished. I deserve it.”

She clenches her jaw, her damp eyes stuck on his face. Reggie looks as defeated as she feels. Veronica has told herself that she didn’t take that matter into the principal’s hands because it would be taken to her parents; she couldn’t handle that kind of exposure, not to them at least, but the truth is that there was always another reason: Reggie would probably be suspended, maybe kicked off of the varsity team, and God only knows what his father would to him if he learned Reggie tainted his only shot at a good university.

Maybe he did deserve it. But there was _something_ , a gut feeling, girlfriend’s _(ex, Veronica. Ex-girlfriend’s)_ intuition or whatever, that had prevented her from acting. And somehow, the fact that he’d so deliberately throw himself under the bus knowing that getting beat was probably the best thing that would happen to him just… Meant something.

“I’m not going to do that,” she says, despite the lump in her throat, “but I can’t forget what happened, either.”

“Veronica,” Reggie reaches out a hand and rests it on top of hers before she can pull it away. His skin is soft, and warm, and when he runs his thumb across the back of her hand, she feels her heart shatter like it was being held by some sort of invisible force that was turned off by his touch. “I’m not asking you to forget what happened. I’ve made so many mistakes that I can’t even count, but I miss you, V.” He tries a little smile, and Veronica is very much aware of another tear falling from her eyes. “Not only _us_ , but… You. I miss my best friend, and I’m asking her to find it in her heart to forgive me. _Please_ ,” he squeezes her hand, “just forgive me.”

She stares at Reggie for a long time, and for a moment he’s just Reggie, fourteen-year-old and a rebel without a cause, fifteen-year-old cupping her cheek in a town car running down N Shore Lake Drive, sixteen-year-old with his mouth on her neck, and now, seventeen-year-old, asking her to give him another chance.

Veronica feels her breath stuck in her throat. It feels like the only thing she’s been doing the past couple of months is giving people second chances.

 

 

 

 

On Friday morning, one day before the Variety Show, Archie is getting the textbooks he’ll need for the first period and listening to some random Spotify playlist, when Cheryl Blossom materializes by his locker. He takes one earbud out when he notices her.  
  
“Archibald,” she says, giving him a dangerous smile, the one Archie thinks is funny.  
  
He smiles back. “Good morning, Cheryl.”  
  
“Did you manage to finish your song for tomorrow?”  
  
“Uh, no. There are still some verses left, and I still have no idea how to go on. Well, if everything fails I’ll just sing a cover or something.” He closes his locker and leans his arm against it, turning his body towards her. “Did you get home alright yesterday?”  
  
Yesterday, Cheryl had taken him to a place in North California Avenue, where they sat together to drink coffee and eat the best pumpkin pie ever, which Archie argued was only the second best pumpkin pie ever, since nothing would ever beat the homemade pie Pop Tate’s wife baked in the fall.  
  
Cheryl was definitely easier to be around when they were alone. Archie could understand why she and Veronica were once best friends: in many ways, they were very similar in their sharp edges and rapid comebacks, in the quirk of their eyebrows. Beneath all that piercing exterior lied something very soft, like an island to discover. Even the way they dressed and smelled was kind of similar.  
  
She told him tales of her childhood with Jason, how they looked so similar that the nannies would often mistake them and dress her in his clothes, and vice-versa, but he was such a nice kid and she was so impossible that they soon realized the mistake. Cheryl didn’t like talking about her parents – only said her family was rich since the very beginning of time and that Jason was expected to inherit the business even though she was much more cut out for that than he was, but her parents would never even think about that. They were so conservative, so full of rules; a woman taking over the family business, that would be absurd.  
  
Cheryl also told him, the smile on the corner of her lips fading with every word, how it was to watch her best friend find another best friend, how she was able to shake it off before, and how all of a sudden, she wasn’t anymore. She used to like Betty, she did, but she couldn’t trust her. She was just surprised that Veronica would forgive Betty just like that.  
  
“Of course. So, last night when you left, I was going home, and I decided to stop by the Mag Mile to try and find an appropriate attire for my first, and mercifully last, co-hosting of the Variety Show, and… I bought you something.”  
  
Her brown eyes are glittering. A little part of him is a little afraid of the words _appropriate_ and _attire_. “Bought _me_ something?”  
  
Cheryl rises one eyebrow, opening her red leather backpack, and takes out a little black box. She hands it to him, and when he opens it, he finds a guitar pick resting over some parchment paper. It’s black, but what draws Archie’s attention to it is the little red cherry imprinted in the middle of it. His face twists into something between a frown and a smile.  
  
“Everything’s better with a cherry on top,” she says, brightly, “including your song. I hope it gives you inspiration and good luck tomorrow.”  
  
Maybe it’s the way she says it, excited like a six-year-old with a brilliant idea, but Archie ends up snorting. “Thanks, Cheryl,” he says, as he takes the guitar pick out of the box to examine it a little better. “Mine was a little old, anyway.”  
  
She rests one hand on his forearm, prompting to kiss him on the cheek. She smells warm and autumn-ish, cinnamon and amber, just like the place where they ate pumpkin pie. Archie smiles softly at the gesture. Cheryl is still touching his arm when Archie sees movement in his peripheral vision, and the tips of his ears warm up when he realizes Veronica is approaching the scene. Cheryl squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up, all of a sudden, like she’s putting on an invisible armor.

“Hi, Archie? I just wanted to know if we’re still on for this afternoon?” she asks, but then bites down on her lower lip, her eyes fixed on Cheryl’s. “Hey, you.” Veronica tries a small smile.

“Hey,” Cheryl says, so quiet it’s almost _sad_ , and Archie feels bad for the whole situation, though she soon shifts her tune. “I’m going to class,” she announces, letting her eyes linger on Veronica’s face for just another second before she turns to Archie, the corner of her lips up. “See you at lunch, cutie.”

Archie feels his whole face burning as he notices Veronica’s eyebrows traveling towards her hairline. He clears his throat, fumbling with his gift box just to have something to do with his hands. “Uh, she’s just…”

“Don’t worry. I know exactly how she is.” Veronica laughs a little, her eyes crinkling.  Archie scratches the back of his head, somewhat embarrassed, almost as if Cheryl semi-flirting with him in front of Ronnie was something _wrong_. “So, this afternoon?”

“Yeah, your place after practice, right?”

“Actually, I was about to ask you a huge favor,” Veronica says, joining her hands together. Archie notices, drinking her in, that she’s wearing virtually no make-up; her hair looks a little messier than usual, curling at its ends, and she’s in a plain white t-shirt paired up with a simple black skirt and heel-less thigh-high boots. She’s so tiny and so beautiful that he would probably say _yes_ even if she asked him to join a satanic cult or something, but he still lets her go on. “Could we go to your place and not mine? I know it’s last minute, but something happened last night. I’m _pretty sure_ my parents won’t like it if…”

She’s interrupted by the arrival of Reggie Mantle, who strolls by Archie’s locker with his backpack hanging on one shoulder and tired eyes. Archie automatically clenches his jaw and mentally gets ready for a fist fight of sorts – _of course._ It was just about time Reggie reacted like a total jerk to Archie and Veronica’s coexistence.

However, despite all of Archie’s expectations, Reggie just adjusts the strap on his shoulder and throws Veronica a _really_ authentic smile. “Hey, V,” he says, and Archie frowns, glancing from his teammate to Veronica, whose cheeks are obviously a little rosier. She smiles back at her ex-boyfriend, even if her lips are pressed together in a thin line. Archie feels something pounding in the base of his throat and only grinding his teeth together helps soothe it, when Reggie turns to him with a small nod. “Andrews.”

Archie involuntarily narrows his eyes, ready to say something his mother would’ve disapproved, but Reggie’s already gone. Veronica looks over her shoulder to watch him go, and Archie can’t help but express his confusion when she turns to look at him again. She seems a little apologetic, her lips still pursed. “Are we his best friends now?” he asks.

Veronica blows out a breath. “Just let it be, Archiekins. I’ll tell you everything later,” she says, and Archie can’t help but wonder if _everything_ will leave him even angrier. “So, is it okay? For us to go to your place?”

“Yeah.” He swallows, eyes following Reggie. “Sure, I don’t think my mom will mind.”

“Great.” Veronica draws his attention by grabbing his wrist. “Well, we have French now. _Allon-sy_?”

Archie ends up smiling, letting her pull him down the hallway. “No better way to start Friday than crying over all those accent marks.”

She laughs, letting his wrist go, but the feeling on his skin lingers like nothing else.

 

 

 

 

Veronica has been a little nervous the whole day, wondering how she would act like she had been on a bus before when in fact she didn’t even know which door to use. But when Archie suggests they get a Lyft, she’s so relieved; she almost laughs.  
  
In the car, they both sit in the back seat, a solid foot of space between them. Veronica leans her head back and closes her eyes, feeling tired – she and Reggie kept talking until two a.m., and she couldn’t get much sleep after he left. As predicted, the pillow he had laid on was left smelling like his cologne, and she even found a short strand of thick black hair against the pristine fabric.  
  
Archie’s hair was the same color as the leaves in the trees. He also didn’t smell like anything else but soap, and it was refreshing, clean.  
  
During lunch, she’d explained to him (and Betty and Kevin) what had happened with Reggie – the visit, the talk, the _okay I’ll try to be civil and forgive you_ conclusion – and even though she didn’t _want to_ , she ended up paying a lot of attention to his reaction. Out of the three of them, Archie was the only one who could have some sort of say in her decision; he was the one who’d gotten punched, anyway. But he only listened to her, very quietly, his jaw clenching here and there, then he agreed with Betty when she said that Veronica had a huge heart.  
  
Which probably meant that she was also hugely stupid, but _oh well._ She supposes she could use some good karma points.

There’s a small pressure behind her eyes, but Veronica was never one for _napping_ , too anxious to fall asleep with the world still functioning around her. She takes a deep breath, still with her eyes closed. “Can we stop for coffee? I could use some caffeine before we dive into Napoleon’s mind.”

Archie snorts. Veronica peaks at him and realizes he also has his head laid back and eyes closed, probably tired from his basketball practice. “My mom is a lawyer. She bought this little _espresso_ machine. I think you’ll be alright.”

Veronica smiles, looking at his profile and all the sharp edges of his face. There’s a part of her that will always admire lawyers, even though she’s destined for business school. “I hope she doesn’t hate me for stealing some of her fuel." 

“She won’t. She’d like you,” he grins, but then he shifts on his seat, opening his eyes, “but I don’t think my mom will be there. It'll be just us and Jeffrey. My, uh… stepdad. He works from home. He’s a… consultant of some sort. I have no idea, to be honest.”

“Is he nice?” Veronica asks. She knows Archie’s parents have been divorced since he was about twelve years old and knows that he was very close to his father. He told her that the very first time they really talked, on the bleachers during the back to school dance, before things got a little more complicated. “I mean, I know he’s not your dad or anything, but…”

“Yeah,” Archie says with a small shrug of his shoulders and a little smile on his lips. “I think I never want to admit it, but he’s a nice guy. But he probably _will_ do something to embarrass us, so don’t take it personally.”

Must be nice to have parents that embarrass you in front of your friends, _normal_ parents, without blood on their hands. She bites the inside of her lower lip. “I won’t.”

They get to the building as fast as they can with the Friday afternoon traffic. Veronica has been to Kevin’s place a few times, so she knows what to expect from Archie’s mother’s loft. Still, he warns her that it’s quite simple and small, the tip of his ears red. Veronica likes it, though, the industrial feel and the open space concept, thinks she could see herself living somewhere like this even though all she’s ever known was a 2,800sq/ft penthouse and luxurious hotel rooms around the world.

Jeffrey – Archie’s stepdad – is sitting on one of the kitchen stools with his laptop. There’s some sort of game playing on the television, but the sound is so low that it’s probably just background noise to help him concentrate. The concept of working from home, wearing lounge clothes, is a little odd to Veronica, who’s used to seeing her father leave the house in a $3,000 suit. Still, Jeffrey smiles like Hiram never would when he sees them.

“Jeff, uh, this is Veronica. She’s my history partner.”  
  
“Hey, there, dear,” Jeffrey says, getting up and wiping his hands on his jeans before reaching out to shake Veronica’s. “Welcome to our house.”

“Nice to meet you, sir. Thank you for having me on such short notice.”

“Nonsense, sweetheart, thank _you_ for helping this guy suck less at history,” he says, tapping Archie’s shoulder, and Veronica giggles at his discomfiture. “Call me Jeff.”

“Thank you, Jeff.”

She feels Archie’s hand on the small of her back, just _barely_ touching her, but it startles her a little bit. “Uh, Ronnie, I’ll show you my room, and I’ll come back to make your coffee, alright?”

Jeffrey gives them a knowing smirk. Archie steers her down a little hallway, but the walk is very short – his room is white, clearly improvised in some other space, and there’s virtually no decorations but his bed, a closet, a desk and some shelves. Veronica notices some colorful letters on the wall that spell out his name, as if he was three-years-old. Archie leaves his guitar case and backpack in a corner.

“Make yourself at home,” he says, as Veronica looks around. “Dark with two sugars, right?”

She glances at him, her eyebrows puckered together, wondering when the hell did she tell him that’s how she took her coffee. “Yeah. Thanks, Archiekins.”

He smiles. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Veronica sits carefully on the edge of Archie’s bed, pulling at her skirt’s hem, her back straight. The sheets are pale grey and crinkling, but the duvet feels very soft under her palms. There’s some boyish mess here and there, but everything else feels a little impersonal. She likes the window, though – it’s large, almost a whole wall, and it allows a lot of daylight to come in. She can picture him sitting by it with his guitar, singing something softly, the sun making his hair even brighter.

The loft walls are very thin. She can hear everything that’s happening outside the room, from running water to Jeff’s typing, Archie fumbling around the kitchen’s cabinets, and both of them talking in a muffled voice.

“When you said you were bringing a girl here to work on a project, I thought you meant _another girl_ and, you know, to _work on a project_ ,” Veronica overhears Jeffrey whispering even though she’s not trying to.

“Wh– _what_?” Archie asks, sounding a bit confused.

“The girl from the game, buddy. The redhead.”

 _“Oh,”_ it’s all that Archie says for a while, and Veronica feels her heart rate pick up. She wishes there was a way to _stop_ listening to them, but she can’t really move. She sits very still, almost holding her breath. _How_ and _why_ did Archie’s stepdad meet _Cheryl_? How close were they? “Oh, _no_ , like, _no_. It’s not like– we’re really just working on a project.”

That didn’t answer anything. Veronica’s nails dig into the duvet. Archie keeps talking, but the espresso machine makes louder sounds as he prepares the coffee. So, she can’t understand what he’s saying, but it ends with, “She’s _my friend_.”

Veronica releases her breath very carefully, trying not to draw any attention to it, and ignores whatever’s happening in her throat. She’s not sure if Archie is talking about her, Cheryl, or maybe both, but she’s glad he thinks like that. It’s good that he’s friends with Cheryl. Even though Kevin thinks she’s scheming, Cheryl _could_ use a friend like Archie. And it’s also good that he sees Veronica like that, too, because that’s all she wanted from him in the middle of all the drama already happening in her life. She’s glad, really. It’s a win-win situation.

She hears his steps getting closer to the room, and places her hands on her knees, squaring her shoulders and schooling her face into a more normal expression, which is really not that hard given there was nothing _wrong_ with her expression, to begin with. Veronica even smiles at him when he comes back, happy for knowing that he’s everybody’s _friend_.

He’s carrying two coffee mugs – they’re different in size and color. One is promotional, some fading symbol imprinted on the cheap china, and the other has _World’s Best Wife_ written on it. Archie hands out the promotional one to her. Veronica wonders if he would’ve given the _World’s Best Wife_ one to _Cheryl_ , but ignores that thought. “Dark with two sugars,” he flashes her a smile, almost as if he’s proud of himself.

“Sweet nectar of Gods,” Veronica says, taking the mug and holding it with both hands. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, concentrating on the smell. It makes her feel better – not that she was feeling bad, anyway. She takes a small sip, and it tastes as good as it smells. “Hmm, thank you.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do since you’re here,” he says, leaning on his doorframe and looking at her over his coffee mug. “Between Betty tutoring me, you helping me with history, and Cheryl as my lab partner, I think I might really have a chance to save my grades.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she says, and hopes it doesn’t sound more pointed than it should. Because _it shouldn’t_. Veronica wishes Archie didn’t smirk with the corner of his lips before sipping on his own drink. She decides to change the subject; it’s probably for the best. “This is not how I pictured your room.”

Archie frowns, a little amused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a little… white. And your name written like this?” She points the colorful letters with her chin, and notices his ears getting red again. “I mean, not that I’m against personalizing, but how old are you again?”

He chuckles, getting into the room and sitting by her side on the bed. “That was probably Jeffrey trying to make me feel at home. You know, he can be a little cringy.” Archie lifts the _World’s Best Wife_ mug.

Veronica smiles. “That’s why you didn’t change it?”

“Nah. It’s just…” He gets a look on his face, some sort of wistful smile, an expression that Veronica didn’t know she could already recognize. It was the one he wore whenever he was about to say something a little more serious. “When I moved to Chicago, I _really_ didn’t want to come. So, I guess I just… If I changed anything about this room, I’d be agreeing with my parents. I’d be _really_ moving,” he says, holding his mug between his knees and looking down. “I didn’t want to make it feel more like home. I didn’t want to stay.”

Veronica looks at him, at the way his thumb runs around the mug’s rim and the twist in the corner of his lips. “It’s been a while now, right? Do you still feel like that?”

Archie looks up at her, and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I still miss my dad, even though he calls me everyday, and my dog,” he says, and Veronica can’t help but smile fondly. “But it’s not that bad anymore, I don’t know. I’m happy that I got to know everybody and that I can kind of start over.”

She never asked him what really happened between him and his ex-girlfriend, the one his parents didn’t really approve of. But then again, _he_ never asked anything about what he’d heard in her house, showed only concern for her well-being, and Veronica was so impossibly grateful for that; she couldn’t help but return the favor and not pry. But there was something there, definitely, because the way his shoulders were weighed down whenever he talked about his hometown had to mean something.

As his friend, though, it was Veronica’s duty to cheer him up. “Well, let’s start over in this room!” she says, bubbly, and it makes him smile. “What kind of stuff are you into?”

He makes a face. “Er…?”

“ _Oh_ ,” she realizes how _dirty_ her question sounded, and slaps his arm, “I meant decoration-wise, you perv.”

Archie laughs as if he knew exactly what she was talking about but couldn’t miss a chance to mock her. “I don’t know. Music. Superheroes.”

She gets up, sipping her coffee, looking around his room, trying to imagine some posters here and there, rearranging the furniture in her mind.

“Who’s your favorite?”

“Captain America.” He grins, looking like a child for a second. Veronica rolls her eyes. She knows essentially nothing about superheroes, but Reggie did make her watch all of the Avengers saga when they were together. _Of course_ Archie would be a Captain America fan. Reggie was all about Iron Man. “ _What?_ What’s yours?”

“I don’t know,” Veronica shrugs, analyzing the foam letters on Archie’s wall, “Batman?” Archie scowls. “ _What?_ He’s dark and brooding, mysterious. I dig that.”

“His only superpower is money.”

“It’s the only superpower there is.” Veronica looks at him over her shoulder. He’s drinking his coffee, and his light blue t-shirt is wrinkling around his abdomen. “You should talk to Jughead. He really likes comics as well. Maybe he can take you somewhere so you can buy a huge poster of Chris Evans.”

Archie chuckles. “Kevin would never leave my house.”

Veronica bites the corner of her lower lip, trying to prevent a smile too big. The way Archie is looking at her makes her lightheaded, so she turns around again, staring at his name on the wall. “Maybe we should take these down first.” She nods at the letters with her chin, and drinks some more of her coffee. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.” She doesn’t look at him, but she hears the grin in his voice.

Veronica leaves the mug on a shelf, and carefully starts to rip the letters off the wall, trying not to ruin the paint underneath, aware that he is watching her every move. She goes for the A, and then for the C, H, I, E, purposely leaving the R. His thick brows are puckered together when she looks back at him, and she lifts one of her eyebrows. “R is for Ronnie,” she says, glancing at him, and immediately regrets it, because they look at each other for a moment too long. Archie doesn’t say a word, but his knuckles are white as he holds the mug. Veronica licks her lips and takes off the R too, taking a deep breath; her face feels way too hot all of a sudden. “Maybe we should start working on the project.”

“Yeah,” Archie says after a beat, sounding a little breathy. “Uh, I’ll turn on my laptop.”

 

 

 

 

It takes Archie a little while to concentrate on Napoleon and his megalomania, or on anything but Veronica’s legs, crossed in that skirt; Veronica, with dark framed glasses on; Veronica, sitting on his bed while he types away all the things she tells him to. The door was wide open – he could hear Jeffrey’s game on the television and his occasional phone call to a client – and it’s good because it reminds him that they’re not alone and that they’re only friends.

He told that to Jeffrey back in the kitchen, making coffee, hopeful that his whispers were muffled by the sounds coming from the machine. Archie hadn’t been all too sure of the true nature of their new closeness, if it meant _something_ , but he realized it didn’t really matter. For all of the latent thoughts of maybe, _just maybe,_ picking up from where they’d left off, Archie was really glad to have Veronica back in his life. He didn’t want to screw it up just because he couldn’t control the muscles in his face when he was around her. 

It’s happening again – she’s talking about how Napoleon took advantage of a broken, messy post-revolution France, and she starts rambling about Versailles and its beautiful gardens. Archie can’t help but drink in the sight of her, the corner of his lips turning up in a distracted smile. It’s not that he’s uninterested – and he’s not _that_ bad at French, so he does understand the words she’s saying mid-sentence – but those glasses and how excited she gets talking about _history_ …

Archie has no idea how they manage to actually finish the project since he was just _staring_ at Veronica the whole time. He’s probably learned _nothing_ , even though he typed about five thousand words which she was correcting with the laptop on her lap and a pleased expression on her face. “Well, I’ll polish this up at home, but _wow_ , I really think we might get a good grade on this.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Ronnie,” Archie says, stretching a little, his mind buzzing a little with all the information he just pretended to absorb. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I didn’t do it all alone,” she says, fondly. Archie smiles, and gets his phone – that’s been buzzing non-stop for the past hour – to find out that Kevin has been trying to reach him on every single kind of social media there is. All the messages are variants on **_i need to know what song you’re playing so we can put it in the program_** ; **_archibald andrews I swear to god,_** and **_where are you???_**. Even Cheryl sent him a message, **_beau, please talk to your friend. he’s hyperventilating, xxxxx_** followed by a cherry and a kissy face emoji.

Archie only answers Cheryl’s text with an eye rolling emoji and also a kissy face, just because he thinks she’ll like that, and thinks about what he’s going to tell Kevin.

“Everything alright?” he hears Veronica asking. “You look like you’re in pain.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, it’s just… Kevin wants to know what I’m going to play tomorrow, and I have no idea what to tell him.”

She looks interested, setting the laptop down and taking off her glasses. “I thought you were playing an original? You said you were writing a song that day in the gardens.”

Archie sighs. He did finish _that_ song; he called it _I’ll Try_ and thought it was okay, _good_. But at the same time… It lacked something, something about him, about his feelings. He told that to Ms. Baker in their session last Monday, and she said it would be okay for him to just sing something else, to start over. He didn’t need to hyper focus on his defeats. He needed to think about victories. So, he kind of started another song – and he really likes it – but the third verse just won't come to his mind.

“Yeah… I kinda wanted to sing another one, though, but I don’t think I’ll be able to finish it. I’ve been beating my brain but… I don’t know. I’ve never sung anything in public, and I think I’m a little weirded out by the notion. I’ll probably just do a cover.”

“ _More Than Words_?” she raises her eyebrows. “C’mon, singing a song _you wrote_ must be a lot more exciting. There’s still twenty-four hours till the show. I’m pretty sure you can pull something off.”

He considers it, but then something he has thought the whole week comes back to his mind. “Why are _you_ not performing?” Veronica rolls her eyes, and Archie smiles. “No, _really_ , I’ve heard you singing in the car, Ronnie.”

“I’m _not_ that good, and… I don’t know, singing in the car with you was _one thing_. Singing in front of the whole school that’s always trying to find something to talk about… Nope, I’m out.”

“Well, they’ll already have something to talk about.” Archie sighs, pointing to himself. Veronica giggles. “But I mean, after everything that happened these first couple of months, I guess public humiliation is just another bummer.”

She nods slowly, her gaze a little distant, as if she was thinking of saying something. Archie waits for it, observing her open her mouth and close it again, before she finally looks at him. “Reggie swore he had nothing to do with that stupid photo. He said he’d take the fall if that would make me believe in him.”

Archie purposely hasn’t given much thought to the fact that Veronica is giving Reggie Mantle another chance too – that they spent half their night in the same room, breathing the same air and talking about their past. Archie isn’t _jealous_ – he _can’t_ be jealous, since he and Ronnie are just friends – but he’d be lying if he said he liked it. He’s not even sure he’s happy that she told him everything too – a part of him just never wanted to imagine Reggie in her life, ever again.

“And do you believe him?” Archie reaches out for his guitar, looking for something to do so he wouldn’t look her in the eye and give away that, for all of his intentions of _friendship_ , talking about Reggie Mantle was just a little too much.

She shrugs as he strums a chord here and there. “It’s been hard to believe in a lot of things these days.”

Archie looks up and remembers that weird thing that happened with her father, how scared she’d been then. He wants to ask her about it, even though he has this weird feeling that he shouldn’t – but he can’t stand her looking so forlorn, shoulders down and eyes distant. He clears his throat. “Maybe I could do a cover of _Don’t Stop Believing_ ,” he says, grinning, just to make her smile.

It works. “Maybe you should _play your song_. Okay, play it to me.” She sits up straighter. “I’ll be your toughest critic.”

Archie is taken off guard. She has heard him sing, and she did catch him singing his own lyrics when they were at the gardens. But still – it _is_ a little terrifying, especially when his words give so much away about things that he’s still working on. However, Veronica is showing an interest in his music, in the deepest part of him; he doesn’t think she’d ever hold it against him. “Okay,” he blows out a breath, adjusting the guitar on his arms, “if it sucks, you can pretend you’ve never heard it.”

She laughs as he starts strumming the first chords. Archie tries to forget that she’s there for a small moment but is surprised when he realizes he doesn’t _need_ to – it doesn’t matter that she’s there; he wants her to be there. _“It’s the first defeat. It cuts you to your bones, knocks you off your feet. You discover that home is not a person or a place… But a feeling you can’t get back.”_

He pays attention to the notes, wonders if he’d be able to write them down in a more formal, professional way. Everything about music is in his head; it always had been. Archie keeps on singing softly, not able to ignore Veronica’s breaths harmonizing with the chords. _“Then the second round, throws you to the floor. Leaves you stuttering. What the hell was that for? It takes you by surprise, like the bullet you never saw… coming.”_

 _“This will be the last time. This will be the last time,”_ the chorus is basically just that, a phrase that repeated itself in the back of his mind all through his relationship with Geraldine and then later, while his parents were arguing over his life as if it belonged to them. _“This will be the last time you take me.”_

Archie finishes it abruptly, though, because it’s not ready yet – he knows what he’d like to sing in the bridge, _oh, you’ve got a lot of nerve to throw me out the way you did_ ; he knows _how_ he’d like to sing it, a little higher and a little angrier, but there’s something missing in the middle, a blank to be filled in the third verse.

He looks up when he hears Veronica taking a deep breath, her body rising up and down. Her big brown eyes are… shining. “Uh, was it that bad?” he asks, not sure if she’s really crying.

The gleam in her eyes disappears so fast Archie wonders if he’d imagined it. “No, that was really amazing.” She gives him a soft smile, and the funny thing is that he believes her, his cheeks getting warmer. “You have to sing it tomorrow. Otherwise, I’ll just switch history partners,” she teases.  
  
Archie laughs. “Yeah, all this blackmailing is really inspiring.”

She smiles too, avoiding his eyes. “Listen, I should go. I’m really tired and I need to get home before my parents decide to _ground me_ after the whole… Reggie-half-spending-the-night thing.”

The world around them has darkened already. Archie sees her out, avoiding Jeffrey’s significant glances as he strolls by the living room, and softly closes the loft’s door behind him as she waits for the elevator.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” he asks, with his hands shoved in his pockets. Veronica has her arms crossed in front of her chest. “At the Variety Show?”  
  
“Yeah, wouldn’t miss you singing your song – and not an unoriginal, boring cover – for the world.” She raises an eyebrow, and he smiles at that.  
  
It gives him flashbacks to a week ago, dropping her off at her building, throwing her his most charming grin for no reason. The elevator _beeps_ , announcing it’s on his floor, and because she did the same last time, Archie leans in a little, pressing his lips to her left cheek, very carefully. Her skin is the softest thing he’s ever felt. Veronica glances up at him, and he purses his lips together, feeling them dry.

“You know what you said before? That when you moved to Chicago, you didn’t want to stay?” she asks, entering the elevator, leaning her back against the mirror. Archie nods. “I’m glad you did, for what it’s worth.”  
  
And just like that, with her soft smile disappearing behind the elevator’s doors, the third verse comes to his mind.

 

 

 

 

Cheryl decides that Archie needs a _rockstar makeover_ or whatever that means. She drags him to the backstage as soon as he arrives to the auditorium, forty-minutes early as he promised Kevin he would. No one’s there yet, and he wants to tell Cheryl that he doesn’t really need to look like a rockstar since he’s only playing a sad ballad. However, her heels are so sharp and high that he’s a little _scared_ of contradicting her.

She looks gorgeous, as usual, with her _appropriate attire_ – a black two-piece suit with only some sort of red bra underneath, so revealing that Archie can’t understand how it’s allowed to be worn in a school. She sits him down on a stool backstage, the milky skin on her chest a little darker under the yellow bulbs around the mirror, and she puts some sort of foamy hair mousse in her hands, running them through Archie’s hair and making it even messier.

“Don’t worry, I’m just spicing you up. Not that you need it,” she says, very focused, and Archie snorts. “So, where _were you_ yesterday, the day I got six text messages from Kevin Keller?”

“I was right next to his door,” Archie answers. He did text Kevin a little while after Veronica left and his inspiration replaced her, saying that he’d play an original song called _First Defeat_ , to which Kevin just replied with a salty **_let’s hope it’s the last, too._** Cheryl keeps pulling his hair here and there. Archie wonders if she does that with Jason. “Uh, Veronica was with me.”

He knew Cheryl would stop as soon as she’d heard that name, and he’s not wrong. Cheryl’s fingers stop working for a long second, but soon they come back. “Oh,” it’s all that she says, and it’s very quiet. Archie bites down his lower lip, not really sure why Cheryl looks hurt.

“Not like– we were working on Mr. Holland’s project.”

Cheryl opens her red mouth, about to say something, when Kevin storms into the dressing room, startling them both. One, because he’s wearing a _light blue suit_ with a ruffled shirt underneath and a matching bow-tie; two, because he looks like he’s going to faint at any second, and three, because Josie McCoy is right behind him, still not wearing her cat-ears.

“It’s a tragedy,” Kevin says, desperate. “It’s a– maybe we should cancel everything.”

“What’s going on?” Cheryl asks, towards Josie. She looks a little desperate herself, even beneath all the poise she always wears.

“Everything’s ruined, that’s what’s going on.” Kevin answers, frantic.

“Val is sick. Her voice… She can’t sing.” Josie announces. “The Pussycats can’t open the show.”

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg, that took so long! i'm so sorry! as you guys know, i was travelling and working, and had virtually no time to write. but i still managed to do it lol and now the chapter is ready. 8k words again! help lol. it was really hard to write this chapter bit by bit but i think - i have a feeling - you guys will like it. i was amazed by the response in the last one. i've wanted to do this archieronnie scene for forever and it's so much longer than i thought it would be, that i needed to place the variety show in the next one. and with a twist! lol.
> 
> slowly working in the "love triangles" as well. but don't panic and trust me. as much as i loved to have archieronnie interacting all around the chapter, i miss the other characters a little bit. what are your hopes for the variety show?
> 
> nothing else to say. thank you so much for the support, especially on tumblr where you guys seem to be genuinely worried about my well being. i really do love you and even though it might take two weeks to update since i'm in my travelling season, i'll do my best to keep on answering your questions and interacting with you. love you so much! see you next time! ooh, and ONE THOUSAND thank yous to my super beta nicole who stood by me through this hard journey lol
> 
> song at the beggining is 1975's "fallingforyou" (amazing tune, 10/10, very fitting for archieronnie right now). song that archie sang is actually noah gundersen's "first defeat", but let's pretend it's archie's. if you're curious, the 3rd verse that he wrote when ronnie left goes like this: _it's the little things that convinced me to stay / it's your fingertips and the music they play_.


	16. Chapter 16

_and I know this is your line, but you're not here to sing it_

 

 

 

“The Pussycats can’t open the show.” 

“What do you _mean_ , The Pussycats _can’t_ open the show?” Cheryl asks, her slim eyebrows puckered together. “You are _three_. Val is only _one._ That means there are still two kitties more than able to perform.”

“That’s exactly what I told her,” Kevin says as he blows out an exasperated breath.

“Val’s voice is _essential_ for our arrangements. Everything is coordinated and perfect. We don’t sing _duets_.”

“Find a replacement then,” Cheryl says, sharp.

Josie opens her mouth, looking downright _offended_. “Find a replac– there are no _replacements_. Or do you think anyone in this goddamn school can sing well enough to blend _their voices_ with _mine_?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Kevin points at Archie, who had been watching the discussion back and forth and has yet to say a word about it. Archie tries to interrupt, but Kevin is faster. “Archie can fill in for Val. He can sing, and he plays the guitar. He’ll learn the song in two minutes. H–”

“Do you have an undiagnosed brain injury or something?” Josie asks, placing her hands on her hips. “The Pussycats are not just a band. We are a movement. We have a signature.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Cheryl rolls her eyes, “it’s just a stupid cat-ear-shaped headb–”

“So, you really think that a straight, stupid, WASP-y white boy is qualified to sing with a group formed by women of color? No offense, baby,” she adds, not even looking at Archie, and his ears turn the color of his hair.

Cheryl looks a little affronted, but she _knows_ there’s nothing about Archie that screams _pussycat_. An image of himself with the cat-ears and a leopard bodysuit, similar to the one Josie is wearing, comes to his mind, and if he wasn’t panicking before, he is now. Thankfully, Kevin seems to be more composed, and he takes in a deep breath before placing both hands on Josie’s shoulders.

“Josie. It pains me to say it, but _the show must go on_. You cannot bail on me right now. On _us_.”

“And it pains _me_ to say it, Freddie Mercury, but the show _can’t_ go on without a third Pussyc–”

“Okay,” Kevin lets go of Josie’s shoulders, his hands hanging in the air as if he has given up. “You girls don’t sing. Maybe we can move the Vixens’ dance number to the first slot, and then–”

“ _Veronica_ ,” Archie says between his breathing, the idea coming to him in a very cartoon-ish way, a bright bulb of light hovering over his head. “Hey, _guys_ , listen–”

“Yeah, half the people in the auditorium bought their tickets to hear the McCoys’ daughter and their famous Pussycats sing,” Kevin goes on, about to combust. “But it doesn’t matter, we can just–”

“No, guys, listen,” Archie says louder this time, and Kevin stops talking, small beads of sweat surging on his forehead. Both Cheryl and Josie turn to him as well. “Josie is right. There’s no way I’m good enough to play with The Pussycats, and they shouldn’t lose their third voice. But– Veronica can sing, I’ve seen it. She’s _really_ good, and she’s a– she’s a Latina, right? I mean, it does fit with the requirements, and–”

“Wait–” Josie holds out her hand. “V _sings_? I mean, I could totally see her within our _theme_ , but–”

“She sings,” Cheryl heaves out a breath, “and yeah, she is pretty good. How do you know that, anyway?” She looks at Archie, a very delicate expression on her face. Archie licks his lips, feeling them a little dry as his face heats up. He does _not_ want to share how he got his knowledge with anyone that’s in the room.

“Does it matter?” Kevin runs a hand through his hair. “If she can sing and she fits the theme, she’s in. I’m calling her immediately. We still have half-an-hour.”

He leaves, with his phone already traveling towards his ear. Josie shrugs, following him, looking fairly impressed with the new information – and Archie is left with Cheryl, who has her arms crossed over her half-bare chest, and her mouth shaped almost into a pout. He feels _weird_ , just like he did before, when she looked hurt because he’d spent the whole afternoon with Veronica.

She’s looking at him like she’s still waiting for an answer, and Archie doesn’t really understand why he feels like he owes Cheryl some sort of explanation. _That_ moment, though, singing in the car with her, wasn’t something he was willing to just give away. Everybody already seemed to know so much about what happened between them; he just wanted to keep that moment to himself.

To be honest, he kind of _hates_ to know that someone else already knew that about Veronica, that it wasn’t a secret between them, even if that someone was once her best friend. He also hates how selfish that makes him.

“Are you done with my hair?” he asks, in the face of her silence.

She takes a long, deep breath before biting her lower lip. “Yeah. You – uh. Kevin brought a jacket for you. I’ll go check on the Vixens.”

Archie has never seen her fumbling her words before, and it makes his chest tighten. He wants to say he’s sorry that Veronica is his friend but not hers anymore; yet, he knows that might not be it.

 

 

 

 

The auditorium is filling up, little by little, and Archie’s stomach is starting to stir in an unpleasant way. He has peeked through the curtains at the stage more than once, and so he has already seen Reggie Mantle and the other guys on the basketball team sitting right up front. He wishes the other guys also had a _sensitive side,_ or that at least Kevin had convinced Moose to embarrass himself somehow in front of the whole school, but he’s the only Mustang who’s participating.  
  
He put on the same leather jacket Kevin once lent him to wear at the Jazz Festival, and whatever Cheryl did with his hair seemed to be working alright, because more than one Vixen had giggled flirtatiously towards him as they got ready for their number in the dressing room. Cheryl, however, hadn’t spoken to or even looked at him since Kevin left with Josie, and Archie was still unsure if his idea was going to save the show, or not. 

He’s sitting on one of the couches in the dressing room, his guitar in his lap, trying to focus somehow amongst all the chatter – when Veronica bursts in the door. The last time he’d seen her, yesterday, she had her back against the elevator’s mirror, and she was smiling. He still felt the softness of her cheek under his lips; he still felt all the other things he had felt when they were _together_ in a completely different elevator.

He had been so inspired suddenly, going back to his room and writing the third verse of his song like it was sitting on his brain the whole afternoon, just waiting for the right push.

Archie immediately gets up, feeling a little relieved that she’s there, but then he realizes she looks furious. It’s almost a throwback to when she invaded the boys’ locker room to scream at Reggie, all those weeks ago. Of course, she walks straight in his direction when she spots him.

“Hey, did Kevin–”

“You had no right to go around telling people that I can sing–” she whispers at him, so loud she might as well be screaming, “Which _I can’t_ , by the way. Replacing _Val_?! Seriously, Archie–”

He doesn’t even have the time to say something when Cheryl, who had been _approving_ all the outfits and makeup for the contestants, appears by his side carrying a garment bag, so sudden it startles both him and Veronica a little.

“It was me,” Cheryl says, unexpectedly, standing by his side. Veronica’s mouth parts. “I told Kevin you could sing and that you would help us save this mess. Archie had nothing to do with it.”

Archie can’t help but frown, confused; he had no idea why Cheryl would take the fall for him in that situation, especially after the weird conversation they had. He tries to school his face into a more neutral expression – he’s _aware_ that he’s a terrible liar – but if that was the game Cheryl wanted to play, maybe he should play it, too. She was a lot smarter than him, anyway.

He takes in a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets, and looks down, a little apologetic. But Veronica’s gaze is not on him.

“Cheryl,” she says, and it comes out surprisingly gentle. Archie is always thinking about how Cheryl misses Veronica; it doesn’t occur to him until that very moment that Veronica probably misses her a lot, too. “Why would–”

“Most of the people out there are just here to see the McCoys’ daughter performing. They don’t give a shit about the others. If there are no Pussycats, they might as well just leave. Keller and I put _a lot_ of work into this thing, and the kids are so anxious.” She hands out the garment bag. “Can you help? It’s just today, and I’m sure you’ll be great.”

Archie clenches his jaw. He doesn’t particularly like how Cheryl is clearly manipulating the situation, but there’s also something so honest in her eyes as she stares into Veronica’s, different shades of brown meeting. He feels a little left out, somehow, an intruder in their silent talk, and fidgets nervously.

“They’re doing a cover,” he says, quickly, and notices that Veronica is chewing on her lower lip, not _really_ looking at him. “I asked Melody, so that’s probably faster to learn, right? I’m sure Kevin can delay the show for ten minutes or something.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she half-whispers, half-sighs, taking the garment bag out of Cheryl’s hand. “I’ll go get ready and learn a song at the speed of light.”

She throws a piercing glance at Archie before she turns around and leaves. It’s like she _knows_ Cheryl’s lying and that he was the one who suggested her name to Kevin. He dares to look at Cheryl, who’s still by his side, almost as tall as him with those sharp heels.

He feels something in his pocket – the guitar pick she gave him a day before – and is hit by a wave of inspiration, taking it between his fingers and showing it to her. “You did say it would bring good luck,” he says, cheeks warm, trying a smile.

She rolls her eyes, but her lips do twitch.

 

 

 

 

The eighties beat floods her brain, keyboards and equalizers, and Josie’s voice mimicking Donna Summer’s, reverberating through her headphones. Veronica has her eyes closed, back leaning against the hard wall, and she’s trying to sing-along as best as she can, her voice low in her throat. She’s only supposed to replace Val’s parts as a background voice, but still – _Donna fucking Summer_. Couldn’t they have chosen the Spice Girls or something less frightening? 

 _“Oooh, I feel love, I feel love, I feel love, I feel love, I feel love,”_ she sings under her breath, trying to practice a little more before the performance, her legs uneasy. Her cat-ear-shaped headband – well, _Val’s_ cat-ear-shaped headband – is in her hands, and she has exactly three minutes to put it on and save the show – or ruin it before it really even began.

She _wishes_ she felt love. However, she just feels nervous. She knows that _theoretically_ she isn’t a bad singer, but still, it’s been way too long since she’s sang in public – drunk karaoke with Reggie, Cheryl, and Chuck Clayton while they were still “dating”, in junior year, didn’t count. Being part of the church’s choir until she was eleven also didn’t count, no matter how much she used to love it. Her parents made her stop once she started middle school – they didn’t want anything _distracting_ her from her path to greatness.

Veronica is also tired, a small headache pulsing behind her closed eyelids. Since Thursday night and the whole Reggie thing, she hasn't been able to sleep all that much. Spending the afternoon in Archie Andrews’ white bedroom didn’t really help either – she tossed and turned at night, his voice resonating in her ears, the way he sang about things she was feeling, the way his lips felt on her cheek and the look on his face when she told him that _stupid_ thing about being glad he stayed in Chicago – very true, but still, so very dumb.

And now he had told the whole school about her _hidden talent_ or whatever. Because of course it was him. Veronica is very conscious that Cheryl tried – and succeeded – to manipulate her into doing this, but she couldn’t say no. Not when Cher was talking to her in a nice way after two months of acrimony, not when she was actually asking for Veronica’s help in her soft, truest voice. Plus, Kevin was involved too, and – God help her – so was Archie, with his hands in his pockets and an apologetic expression, wearing the same leather jacket he had on when they first met at the Jazz Festival.

Veronica opens her eyes once the song is over. Josie and Melody are there already, wearing leopard-printed bodysuits, which are similar to the one she has on. It was supposed to be worn by Val, who’s taller and thinner than her, so it’s a little tight around her waist and hips. The three of them have little jewels glued to their faces and bold, sparkly makeup. Veronica tries to smile at Josie, taking out her earbuds, but the smile probably gives away her anxiety because Josie doesn’t smile back.

She does get closer, though. “You know I’d never agree to this crazy idea if you didn’t look like a diva, and I didn’t trust you, right? I know you won’t embarrass me,” she says, and Veronica can see that she’s just trying to be supportive, but it gets her even more nervous – how can she tell Josie she’s not entirely sure that it won't be a huge disaster?

Melody comes closer too, resting a hand on Josie’s arm and winking at Veronica, who feels like she could throw up at any time now. “Put on your ears, girl. We’re on in four minutes,” she says, and steers Josie towards the stage. The curtains are still closed, but Kevin is already entertaining the audience.

Veronica blows out a breath once they’re out of sight. “Alright,” Veronica tells herself, placing her phone back in her backpack, her hands and shoulders shuddering. “Alright, you can do this,” she says quietly, but can’t take one step further. The cat-ears, she has to put them on. It’s _so_ embarrassing that her hands are sort of shaking.

Maybe she _can’t_ do this. It’s by far not the worst thing she’s ever done. She knows she just needs to focus on someone who makes her feel safe, but who would that be? She’s not sure if Betty came. Her parents weren’t there, but for all the things they made her feel, _safe_ was no longer on that list. And Reggie was not an option, right?

Of course, she doesn’t want to ruin The Pussycats’ reputation, but it’s more than… She doesn’t want to let Cheryl down. Not again, not…

“Hey.” Veronica jumps when someone touches her just above the elbow. She turns around, startled, but Archie doesn’t remove his hand from her arm, just pressing his fingers a little more. He frowns a bit when he catches the look on her face. “I was hoping to catch you before it all started.”

“Not now, Archie,” she says, feeling her muscles tense up at his touch and his smell, her shoulders traveling towards her ears like a true, frightened kitty. It’s almost ironic. “I have to be out there in three minutes and–”

“I’m sorry I let it out that you could sing to Kevin,” Archie says, interrupting her gently. Veronica watches his face, a little surprised – she didn’t think he would come clean about that. Maybe she’s just not used to honesty anymore. “I know Cheryl said that it was her, but I think she was just taking the fall for m–”

Veronica gives her head a minute shake. “I know it was you,” she says, painfully conscious that he still has his hand on her arm, and it’s sliding down a little, stopping below her elbow, large and callous. She licks her lips quickly, feeling the buttery texture of her lipstick. “I can’t be mad right now. I’m just– what if I ruin everything for everyone? These girls have been singing together for ages. They’re counting on me, Kevin and Cheryl too, and you and– Val is an _amazing_ singer. Who am I to think that I could ever–”

She stops, catching her breath. Archie had always been easy to talk to, even with everything that’s happened between them, but she’s still extremely embarrassed that she’s being so vulnerable. Veronica doesn’t _like_ being like this, fragile and nervous and–

“Hey, hey,” his hand leaves her arm, but it comes back to her, both of them on her shoulders; she’s able to breathe. “Ronnie. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first, and I really suck at a lot of things. But I wouldn’t– I wasn’t lying when I said you sound great. You’re good at this. You're _so_ good at this,” he says, and the little smile on his lips sort of destroys every wall she was trying to quickly build around her. “I promise you.”

Veronica almost hides her face in her hands before she remembers that it could ruin her makeup. She swallows hard, looking at him. “I hate you.”

He laughs a little, probably because he knows she doesn’t hate him, not at all. The tips of his ears are getting red as they use to do when he lets go of her shoulders and gets the headband that she’s been fidgeting with for a while now.

“Look, why don’t you just try to go and have some fun?” Archie says, very concentrated all of a sudden, as he places the headband in her hair. Veronica would say that _fun is for the weak_ if she could find any words inside of her, but she can’t – he had touched her before, in more ways than she’d normally let someone touch her, but this is all too new. “And I don’t know, if you freeze out there, you can pretend it’s just–” He makes a face, weirdly smoothing her hair down. He shrugs, hands leaving her. “You can pretend it’s just us, singing Van Halen in a car.”

Her hands travel towards her head, adjusting the headband a little more comfortably, and she looks up at him. Veronica parts her lips, hoping to find something to say as he smiles at her. She’s almost settling for a _thank you_ or something lame like that, when Melody shows up from out of nowhere, grabbing her by the wrist. “C’mon, Josie will freak the fuck out if you take another second,” she says, pulling her.

Veronica throws Archie a panicky glance before letting herself be directed, and he tilts his head towards the stage in an encouraging gesture, smile getting bigger, showing his teeth. The smile hits her like a ton of bricks, again, so sweet and genuine. It makes her grin too.

It’s stupidly nice to know that at least one person won’t be disappointed if she fails.

 

 

 

 

The bright lights, Josie’s voice filtering through the speakers. Veronica closes her eyes, pretending it’s just some karaoke bar down in Wicker Park. She takes Archie’s words to heart and decides to have fun with it, moving her hips and arms to the sensual beat. Of course, Val would be doing a better job – she’d actually be playing the keyboard, and they wouldn’t have to resort to a playback – but she feels somehow confident once she starts dancing, remembering how good it always felt to do similar things with the Vixens. 

It’s almost unbelievable that it’s her voice echoing in the auditorium when it’s her turn to sing, one pitch lower than Josie’s, adding something completely different to the usual Pussycats’ arrangement. It makes her smile, the way it sounds; it’s like something inside her is melting away completely, and she can really just enjoy the moment and feel the music.

To be honest, they kind of rock up there.

Her chest is raising up and down when it’s over, as she watches the full auditorium applaud their performance. Veronica spots Betty and Jughead somewhere in the middle, both standing up and clapping, and she ends up laughing.

“O.M.G., I don’t know about you, but I do feel love.” Kevin jumps on the stage all of a sudden, making the crowd smile. “Thank you to Josie McCoy and her Pussycats for this amazing performance, and special thanks to the new kitty Veronica Lodge!”

Both Josie and Melody come near her to hold her, apparently pleased with her participation. She hears the varsity boys catcalling in the front row, notices Reggie with his phone in his hand and a bright smile, and the whole thing gets her a little warm inside, some sort of adrenaline rushing through her veins.

The trio takes a bow before leaving the stage with their arms linked together, letting go once they’re off the stage. Josie and Melody hug each other and Veronica finds Archie standing just where she left him; he probably watched the show from there.

He’s beaming. “Can I get an autograph?” he jokes, opening his arms, and Veronica is not sure what she’s doing when she jumps into them.

It takes him a solid second to hold her back when she wraps her arms around his neck, but she can’t really care – he soon envelops her in an embrace so tight it lifts her up the ground a little bit. “Oh, my God, that was awesome,” she says, feeling his leather jacket under her chin.

They’re both still smiling when he puts her feet back on the ground. His hands remain around her waist when he pulls away a little, a smug look on his face. “I hate to say _I told you so_ , but…”

She rests her hands on his forearms, rolling her eyes a little bit. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. I’m amazing.”

“Yes, you are.”

Maybe it’s the way he says it, but it hits her, all of a sudden, how they hadn’t been this close since the back-to-school dance, always so careful not to touch each other too much and not to give in to the electrical energy that always seems to run all around her when they’re near. Veronica is abruptly very much aware of Archie’s large hands on her waist, and how his thumbs are just _barely_ grazing the skin of her back, the part exposed by the bodysuit.

“You’ll be okay, alone out there?” she asks, just so they’re not alone with the silence, and Archie lets go of her waist, his hand traveling to rub the back of his neck.

“I was born alone. I’ll die alone,” he says, dramatically, and Veronica bites her lower lip, laughing a little. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” It’s Cheryl who says that, coming from backstage, looking absolutely beautiful in the outfit she chose. Veronica feels her cheeks warm up – she wishes she could tell Cheryl she just faced the stage to help her, but Cheryl is not even looking at her, her attention focused on Archie. “Since Keller is about to call your name.”

It’s perfect timing – Kevin does announce Archie’s name the second she says that.

Cheryl reaches out a hand to smooth Archie’s hair, making it even messier than usual. “Rock star-ish enough?” he asks, smiling softly, and Veronica has the urge to look away, feeling weirdly left out.

“Yes. Got your lucky charm?”

Veronica looks back at them when Cheryl says that. Archie snorts, taking something out of his denim pocket, and shows it to the redheaded girl. It’s a guitar pick, black with a cherry printed right in the middle – _obviously_ a gift from Cheryl, who looks almost proud when she sees it, offering Archie one of her most honest smiles, one that reaches her eyes. He gives that smile back to her and, just like that, the high Veronica was experiencing comes crashing down all at once.

“Break a leg!” Cheryl says, pushing him towards the stage. Archie does look at Veronica before going, and she tries her best to wish him good luck with a smile, a little confused as to _why_ she’s suddenly feeling so down. Archie walks to the middle of the stage, waving to the people who are clapping, and sits on a stool that was placed in front of the Pussycats’ gear, guitar on his lap.

In her peripheral vision, Veronica can see Cheryl standing by her side for the first time in months. They’re both watching Archie say some shy words that get the crowd chuckling. Veronica crosses her arms over her chest, just to find something to do with her hands, and she can’t help but discreetly watch the look on Cheryl’s face once Archie starts strumming the first chords of the same song he played for her in his room yesterday.

“He’s a natural,” Cheryl says, quietly. _"It’s the first defeat_ ," Archie sings with his best voice, and Veronica feels her arms fill with goosebumps.

She doesn’t really know _why_ she asks it – it’s a combination of Kevin’s conspiracy theories, the bad feeling all around her, and the smile on Cheryl’s red lips. “Is anything going on between you two?”

She watches Cheryl’s profile, and the only thing that gives away emotion is an involuntary jolt of her brow bone. “Why? Are you jealous?”

Veronica swallows around the lump in her throat. “It’s not– I’m _not_. But Archie has gone through a lot, and I don’t want him–” She takes a deep breath. She didn’t know _for sure_ what Archie had gone through in his last relationship, but she knew that only someone who experienced pain could write a song like the one he was singing. And now that they’re friends, it's her job to protect him, too. “I don’t want to see him get hurt, or anything.”

Cheryl lowers her head and her red hair covers the side of her face like a curtain. She nods very slowly, as if she’s coming to a silent realization. “You never had a problem with _me_ getting hurt, though.”

“Cher, I told you. I’m sor–”

“I’m not hurting him.” Cheryl turns her body towards her, and it feels like it’s been years since the last time they had a conversation face-to-face. “He’s been kind, and honest, and a good friend. I really do like him,” she whispers, and her brown eyes are welling. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Veronica sustains her gaze, feeling a little embarrassed. Why was she even entertaining this stupid idea that Cheryl was scheming, anyway? Archie really was a nice, honest, down-to-earth guy, who could be so good for a girl like Cheryl, who had never known love before. She had that string of interchangeable boyfriends who were never important; she couldn’t let herself fall for Chuck even though he was head over heels for her. If Cheryl _cared_ about Archie enough to give him such a small, meaningful gift, and to look into Veronica’s eyes and admit it, maybe she was finding something inside her that didn’t exist before.

She opens her mouth to say something. Veronica couldn’t lie – the thought of Archie actually _being_ with anyone kind of bothered her, yes, but it wasn’t like… She didn’t have any say in it. They were friends; that had been established. Whatever lingering tension was just that, _tension_. She had a lot to sort out in her life. Damn, she’d broken up with Reggie _exactly_ because she couldn’t give herself away knowing that there were so many other things that needed her attention, things that could actually change her entire future.

Cheryl seems frozen as she expects an answer, staring at Veronica’s face so hard, her eyes seem a little out of focus beneath the arising tears. Veronica feels her own eyes filling as well.

There’s a beat of silence – Archie has begun to sing the third verse of his song, the one he hadn’t written yet when he sang it to Veronica on yesterday’s late afternoon.

 _“It’s the little things that convinced me to stay_ , _”_ he sings on stage, and Veronica’s still looking at Cheryl’s eyes as she absorbs his words. _“It’s your fingertips and the music they play.”_

Fingertips. Music. _Little things_. She gave him a guitar pick with a cherry on it. A fucking guitar pick. Veronica could laugh as the awareness settles in her stomach – Archie wrote the third verse to Cheryl, the little thing that convinced him to stay in Chicago – but instead, a tear falls from her eyelashes as she blinks. “No, Cher,” Veronica says, quietly, wiping her face as quickly as possible. “I just want you to be happy.”

She means it. God, she does. Cheryl licks her lips, seeming a little taken aback by the answer, and Veronica can see she’s making a huge effort not to cry too. Archie has reached the bridge of his song, and his voice is getting stronger and louder, hitting the chords with more emotion. _“Oh, you’ve got a lot of nerve to throw me out the way you did_ ,” he sings, and Veronica sees Cheryl swallowing hard. She takes in a sharp breath.

“I gotta go,” Veronica says, not really looking at her (ex?) friend anymore. “Tell him he was amazing, alright?” She tries a smile, something that Cheryl does not give her back. Veronica leaves the stage with a bad feeling pulsing at the bottom of her throat, the sound of Archie repeating _this will be the last time_ over and over.

 

 

 

 

_"This will be the last time… you take me."_

He strums the last chord, and there’s a beat of silence, steady, still silence, where he’s not sure what really happened – when did it start, how did it end. He was completely taken by the song, the song he wrote, the music on his fingertips. It fills his heart like nothing else, and he ends up smiling, _beaming_ , almost at the same time as people start to applaud and whistle.

Archie gets up, guitar still around his neck, and he bows slightly – it’s the first time he ever performed in public, but it’s such a _rush_ , something he probably never experienced before though maybe, just _maybe_ , he did one before, in that closet in Cheryl’s house.

He waves to the cheering crowd, still smiling – Kevin comes out of nowhere to say some praising words in the microphone, something about wanting to slit his wrists _in a good way_ , which makes everyone chuckle. Archie can’t really see anyone with the strobing lights in his eyes, but his object of attention is probably still watching from the curtains.

Archie is a little nervous as to how she’ll react after listening to the – pretty obvious – third verse he wrote almost immediately after Veronica told him she was glad he stayed in Chicago. He wonders how it is possible to think about her as _just friends_ when she’s able to tell him something like that, when she fit so perfectly in his hands. He’s glad they’re friends, but maybe it’s not enough. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to want someone else before figuring out his shit with Geraldine, but he does.

It’s true. It’s real.

He runs backstage to find her, maybe hold her again – but she’s not there. Neither is Cheryl, which makes him frown, because the Vixens are supposed to be the next number, and there was no way in hell Cheryl would let them perform without a final word.

“Great song, Archie!” Midge Klump says, cheery, as she stretches one of her arms.

“You rocked, pumpkin spice!” Ginger Lopez is a little more forward and slaps his butt, playfully, which gets him furiously red – he’s used to his teammates doing this sort of stuff during games, but not _girls_. Not pretty girls wearing that kind of clothing.

“Th… Thanks, Ginger,” he says, scratching the back of his head, nervously looking around. “Have you seen Veron–”

“Hey, girl,” he hears a masculine voice say, and turns around to see Moose, wearing his varsity jacket, reach out to Midge. He’s carrying a rose that he hands to her, making all the other girls _aww_ , and Archie feels very uncomfortable, glancing at the stage where Kevin is still entertaining the crowd. “Good luck.” Moose smiles, kissing Midge’s cheek, and she giggles sheepishly.

 _“Our very own Northside Vixens!”_ Kevin calls, and the girls line up as a pop song starts playing loudly. Ginger winks at Archie before going, and when Kevin comes backstage, Midge hands him the rose, leaving him confused until he sees Moose. “You can’t be here,” he says, annoyed, and Moose doesn’t seem to mind Archie’s presence when he gets closer to Kevin.

“How else am I supposed to talk to you?” Moose asks, in a low voice. Archie sees Kevin’s face _melt_ into a really stupid expression and decides to clear his throat before he witnesses something he doesn’t want to see.

“Arch!” Kevin says, fixing his tie and giving the rose back to Moose. “That was really intense. I thought I was going to have to pretend to like it, but it was actually really good.”

“Uh, thanks,” Archie says, looking awkwardly between the two guys. He wishes he didn’t know about that bizarre love triangle – not to quote New Order. He wishes he wasn’t friends with Kevin so he could _punch him in the face_ for agreeing to stay with someone who has a girlfriend. He wishes he hadn’t been _the other_ in a relationship, once. “Hey, have you seen Veronica?”

“I think she left.” He asked Kevin, but it’s Moose who answers, pointing a thumb towards the exit. “A while ago, actually.”

 _Left?_ Archie's lips part, and he feels a little gasp escape between them. Oh, fuck. _Of course_. He should’ve known this was too much. What did he have in mind, to sing such a blatantly obvious line for her in front of that whole crowd? He’ll be lucky if Reggie doesn’t punch him again. He’ll be _very_ lucky if that isn’t the final nail in the coffin, and Veronica doesn't stop speaking to him one more time.

Archie sighs. _Don’t pour your heart into all the things you do, sweetie. You'll end up with nothing,_  Geraldine used to tell him, sometimes. He wanted to say he didn’t know how to be different, how to hold back, but he never could. There’s a bad taste in his mouth, and all the high he was experiencing comes crashing down.

“Are you okay?” Kevin asks, frowning a bit, and Archie runs a hand over his face.

“Yeah, I’m… I’ll go find my mom. She's probably… Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, Kev, if you’re down for a run.”

“So, Andrews,” it’s Moose who answers again, “the Mustangs are going to this party at Steve’s place if you want to show up, just after the show. Kev will be there, right?”

Kevin seems as surprised as Archie, whose eyebrows travel towards his hairline. It’s the first time the Mustangs actually _invite him_ to one of their many get togethers since the whole Chez Blossom _incident_. He wishes he could go and get drunk and make more mistakes, but he’s just… “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll see you guys on Monday. Have fun though.”

 _Don’t pour your heart into all the things you do_ , he can still hear she saying in that low, seductive voice she had used when around him, toying with his hair like he was a stupid kid. Archie leaves the stage feeling exactly like this – a stupid kid, who never learns.

 

 

 

 

It’s not even ten in the evening when she’s back at the Pembrooke. Her father is sitting in the living room, reading some economics magazine, the fire cackling in front of him, his features lit up, the face of a beautiful man. It’s such a familiar sight – Veronica could stare at her father for hours when she was little, profoundly enamored with him, with how powerful and untouchable he was. 

Now, it makes her a little sick, the knowledge of it all.

She tries to be discreet, but of course he notices her, and drinks in the cat-ear-shaped headband and her funky makeup. She didn’t tell her parents about the Variety Show because she wasn’t intending on participating. But even if she, she wouldn’t have told them anyway. “Mija, estás en casa temprano,” Hiram says, setting the magazine down.

“My plans fell through.” She knows she sounds drained, and she knows Hiram will notice, but she doesn’t care, taking off her heels. “¿Dónde está mi madre?”

“At dinner, with some friends,” he says, almost too fast. Veronica’s throat hurts a bit – did that mean her mother was out doing his risky business while he sat down in the living room? She could laugh, if it wasn’t so tragic. Of course, not. Whatever business Hermione was out taking care of, she was very much aware of it. “Did the plans involve… cat ears?”

“It’s only for a school thing.” Veronica takes the headband off too. “Don’t worry about it. I’m tired, so I’m going to–”

“Espere, mija. We still haven’t talked about your… houseguest, from the other day.”

Veronica heaves out a breath, trying very hard not to sound nervous. “I told mom he didn’t sleep here. I had Andre take him home, and I’m sure you can ask– He had an allergy attack, and there was nothing else I could do.”

“You could have let me call the Mantles myself, so Ricky could pick his son up and take him to a doctor. Or…”

“Well, I didn’t. I let him sleep it off, and I threw him out once he woke up. The door was open the entire time, and it’s not like Reggie is some strang–”

“Hey, hey. Calm down, mija. I’m just saying that maybe next time, instead of breaking the house rules, you can just let me handle the situation, okay?”

 _You or your reptile henchmen, Daddy?_ Veronica wants to ask. Instead, she only smiles politely, swallowing hard. “Of course, Daddy.”

“I mean, I’m presuming you and Reginald aren’t… back together?”

“We are not,” Veronica breathes out, gripping at the headband so tightly she could break the plastic. “Will you excuse me, Daddy? I’m _really_ tired.”

Hiram looks at her for a moment, trying – and probably succeeding – to read her features, how frail she really felt beneath all that sparkly makeup, but ultimately, he just nods, wishing her a good night, eyes back on the magazine. Veronica comes closer to him to give him a kiss on the cheek, just barely, just because he would notice if she didn’t.

She leaves the living room, down the same corridor she overheard him and FP Jones talking, and she locks the door once she’s inside her room.

Veronica sits in front of her vanity table, throwing the headband on it, staring at her face in the mirror. She doesn’t look as tired as she thought she did – the makeup is hiding it well, thick eyeliner, dark eyeshadow, the contouring making her features sharper, the small beads glued around her eyes like little diamonds. She looks beautiful, put together, not at all like how she feels inside.

Sighing, she gets her phone from her pocket. She could text Betty and ask her to come over, but Betty had the right to spend her Saturday night with her new boyfriend. And– well, Betty would _know_ – she just _knew_ so much, and then she knew nothing at all. There were all those secrets still, so many things Veronica couldn’t tell her, like why the hell she felt the need to lock doors because she was alone with her father in that empty house.

Veronica scrolls a little up in her chat history, and she finds her chat with Archie, her heart shrinking a bit once she sees his smiley face on his avatar next to his name. They never exchanged so many texts, and they were all about the history project and him endlessly thanking her for the help.

_nice work, red troubadour. sorry i had to bail. xo V_

She types it, because she knows he’d expect her to be there supporting him after the show just like he did with her. But when it comes to pressing send, something stops her – yeah, they’re friends, but there’s no denying it: the flirty undertones in every word she says to him, the way she felt earlier when he placed that stupid headband in her hair so carefully, like maybe she’d forgotten how to breathe. She’s not _allowed_ to have these thoughts anymore, not after Cheryl looked her in the eye and told her she really liked him.

There’s a part of Veronica that's angry with herself for accusing Cheryl, her best friend who must have been feeling horrible and alone, of _using_ Archie, the one person who was there for her all along. Archie obviously reciprocated Cheryl’s… feelings, or whatever. Veronica was mad for thinking that she thought she had a say in any of it, that it was a little about her.

(There’s also a small part her saying: _well, maybe if you hadn’t pushed him away after that party…_ but it’s an ugly, selfish part; Veronica refuses to be that person. The person that wants something just because it’s no longer within reach.)

Veronica hasn’t even completely deleted the text when another one pops up in her notifications. It’s Reggie. She never removed him from her contact list. Frowning, she opens his chat, only to find a picture of herself from earlier on. He took it from where he was sitting in the crowd, and in it, she's singing, her hands in the air and a big, nice smile in her eyes.

 ** _#TBT to some karaoke nites, uh? this was awesome_** **,** the caption said. Veronica bites on her lower lip, feeling her cheeks heating up. She knows it’s wrong to answer him even before she does.

 _can it be a #TBT if it’s saturday?_ she types, quickly, her mind slowly wandering from all the bad thoughts. _nice pic, tks._

Reggie is typing right away, too. **_saw u leaving right after, everything alrite?_**

 _yeah_. _just pretty tired_.

**_oh, c’mon._ **

Veronica smiles a little. She knows exactly the expression Reggie is wearing as he types away – his black hair falling on his forehead since his face would be leaning down towards the phone.

_some people didn’t let me sleep the other day, so…_

**_yeah, about that… wondering if i could repay ur kindness by buying u a drink @ steve’s open bar 2night, lol._ **

She chuckles despite herself.

_if it’s an open bar, how will u buy me a drink?_

**_just trying to invite u to steve’s annual thing, since its #TBT. vixens/mustangs like old times._** And before she can argue, he adds: **_as friends ofc._**

Veronica sighs. Cheryl is a Vixen, and Archie is a Mustang. She isn't all that sure she wants to see them interacting, now that she knows what was really going on, but it gets her angry with herself again.

_i dunno. daddy’s home._

**_u and i both know u can outsmart him._ **

Veronica smiles despite herself.

_unfortunately, u know me too well, mantle._

**_yes! steve's @ 11_ **

_i’m not promising._

**_see u there._ **

Veronica stares at herself in the mirror again. Going out with her school friends and her ex-boyfriend, it’s probably _not_ the smartest idea to pursue, but she would be damned if she would allow herself to just feel so bad all the time. She really could use the fun, and maybe she could try and talk to Cheryl again after leaving so fast. Yeah, that would be nice. Plus, her makeup was just too beautiful to be wasted.

 

 

 

 

Steve’s place is just a three-bedroom apartment in St. Ben’s, where he lives with his mom and older brother who are always out of town once a year, and his open bar is just two beer kegs and whatever liquor the guests bring. So it’s not as dangerous as it could be. The Vixens and the Mustangs gather in the living room, just some low music in the background. 

Cheryl doesn’t go – Archie is also nowhere to be seen, which is a little disconcerting, the thought of them maybe being somewhere else _together._ But soon, Jason tells Veronica that Cheryl went straight home after the show was over, and Archie left with his mom and stepdad right after his song. The knowledge soothes the feeling in her stomach, somehow, and she agrees to take a shot with the girls.

Veronica falls into easy conversation with the people she has studied with for the last few years. These are her friends, and she had been so caught up with her own personal drama that she forgot to stop and think that next year, she’ll not be around them anymore; that they’ll all be in different states and everything that happened in Northside Prep will be nothing but a dream.

Reggie does talk to her a little – a lot less than she expected him to – and brings her a mix of rum and coke, remembering that Cuba Libre is her favorite drink. Of course, he wouldn’t have forgotten. It’s nice to spend time with him, even if they’re really careful with their words. Amid all things – Archie’s sudden, startling arrival, the thing with her parents and Jughead’s parents, and the drama with Cheryl and Betty – she hadn’t really realized that she missed Reggie. Not as her boyfriend, but as someone in her life, someone that knew her, _someone._

She asks Jason for a ride when it’s around three in the morning, and she’s drunker than she thought she would be. Reggie kisses her cheek when she leaves, and it’s nice. It’s soft. It doesn’t _burn._ The car, the passing lights, and Jason’s red hair in her peripheral vision gives her flashbacks to _other_ car rides. She tries not to think about it.

“I’m glad I came,” she tells Jason, suddenly, resting her head in the window, feeling drowsy, but with a small smile on her lips.

“Yeah, we missed you around,” Jason says. He always sounds so serious, so solemn, even when he’s smiling. Veronica drunkenly chuckles. “What?”

“You know I had a crush on you when we were like, twelve, right?” Jason laughs as well. “I thought you were so broody. I really liked your hair, too.”

“Should have told me this before,” he jokes, glancing at Veronica. She knows that he’s completely in love with Polly, Betty’s sister, even though he never takes her to his high school things anymore. She wonders how it feels, to be so sure of something, to feel _that_ from the very start. “Cheryl would have flipped, though. She’d never let us date.”

The mention of his sister’s name brings Veronica to an awareness that had been bubbling up from the very beginning of that long, long night. She was wrong. She should’ve never have hurt Cheryl the way she did. She should’ve apologized _more_. She is so glad to have Betty back in her life but not at the cost of losing Cheryl. She misses her never-ending babbling and her smart remarks. She misses the way that Cheryl used to kiss the side of her head and breathe her in and reassure things would be okay.

Taking a long, deep breath, Veronica looks at Jason. “Hey. Can you take me to your place instead? I need to do something.”

Jason doesn’t ask her what, just nods slowly.

 

 

 

 

She tells Jason goodnight and walks barefoot down the Thornhill penthouse’s hallways. Veronica knows that Penelope and Clifford haven’t really allowed sleepovers ever since the girls hit puberty and could _distract Jason_ , or whatever – but if she could sneak out right under Hiram Lodge’s nose, she can definitely sneak in under the Blossoms’, especially with Jason’s supervision. 

Cheryl’s bedroom is the same black and red extravaganza that seems to follow her family ever since their younger years, and Veronica knows her way around it well. Cheryl never slept with all her lights off too. She closes the door slowly, trying not to wake up her friend, who’s lying on her side, her face bare of any make-up, her hair in a long braid. Veronica inhales, carefully pushing the dark sheets aside, sliding into the bed, and she watches Cheryl’s peaceful features before slowly reaching out a hand to touch her face.

She’s always been a light sleeper, and she’s not really startled once she wakes up and sees Veronica facing her. She’s just visibly confused. “Veronica? Wh–”

“Hey,” Veronica whispers, biting on her lower lip. She rests her hand on Cheryl’s shoulder, and feels her tense up with her touch. “I’m sorry for leaving that way. I was just–”

“How did you– _are you drunk_?”

“Just a little bit,” Veronica chuckles, closing up the space between them a little bit. She hears Cheryl swallowing hard. “I love you so much, and I miss you so much,” she mutters, blinking a couple of times as her eyes seem to tear up. “I hate not being friends, and I know it’s a lot to forgive. But, I’m so sorry.”

Cheryl frowns, eyes shining in the dark. Without her eyebrows done and the mascara in her eyes, she looks a lot like when they were just little kids, lying together in that same big bed. There’s no wonder why that face is what made Archie want to stay.

“Can we try to make this work? I won’t stop being friends with Betty, but I miss you. And I–”

“ _Shh,_ ” Cheryl interrupts her, closing her eyes. She shifts her body a little closer and tilts her head up so she can kiss Veronica’s forehead for a long moment. There’s a tear coming down her face when she pulls away, and Cheryl wipes it, sniffing a little bit too. “Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

This time, Cheryl smiles back at her.

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, this is a speedy update just so you get the chapter. i envied reggie and got severe food allergy last sunday, i honestly almost died, went to the hospital and all. i feel better now but i'm still recovering which is why i didn't answer any of your comments from chapter 15. i am SO SORRY, i'll answer them as soon as possible, and i'll come back with a much better author's note.
> 
> meanwhile, enjoy a very much waited variety show, a role-reversed parallel, a little bit of every ship ever, and an anticipated reunion (:
> 
> thanks for nic to hold my hand through this, as usual. love you beta-girl. i promise i'll answer all your comments from last chapter soon, and i will most definitely keep on answering your messages on my tumblr, andsmile.
> 
> song at the beggining is winter aid's "where the night goes".


	17. Chapter 17

_it's late, though i'm lonely during night  
(i wanna see somebody)_

 

 

 

 

The sky is clear, almost black, and the full moon glows so bright it’s almost like someone has given it the mission to light up the lakeshore, painting the sand with a silvery sheen. Veronica’s raven hair flies away from her face, and she has her arms around her torso.

It’s cold. It’s _fucking freezing_ , but she needs it, the icy air she’s inhaling. She needs the way it hurts in her lungs, the way it makes her blood run faster to warm up her skin. It prevents her from thinking about the taste in her mouth, about the tears prickling the corner of her eyes, about all the other ways her heart is beating fast.

She doesn’t see him coming. She has never seen him coming, and that is perhaps the problem.

Archie’s wearing white – that stupid costume, for God’s sake – but he looks a lot warmer than her, who is basically semi-naked – _that_ stupid costume – with bare feet in the ice-cold sand. She swallows hard as he approaches, wishing he didn’t, wishing he hadn’t found her there, like she wished he hadn’t found her _before_. And when she closes her eyes, she’s so thankful for the wind – it wipes away the tear that was trying to fall from the corner of her fake lashes.

He doesn’t ask her anything. He doesn’t even give her hell for sitting alone on that poorly-lit beach. He just sits by her side, sighing tiredly as he wipes the sand off his hands, and it makes her look at him again. The zipper on his jumpsuit is opened, his neck is red like it had been scratched.

Veronica runs her hands up and down her arms, and they both stare at the pitch-black lake for a long, still moment.

“This looks like the beginning of a bad joke.” It’s the first thing Archie says, after a while, and his voice is low pitched. He sounds downright miserable, just like she feels. “An astronaut and a vampire walk into a bar, or something.”

She chuckles despite herself, but it comes out as a wet sound, like something is clogging up her throat. Veronica looks down and pretends not to notice Archie’s eyes on her face, studying her expression, drinking in the way she’s shivering. She pretends not to notice him looking at her, but she can’t pretend to be happy. Her lip is quivering, and it’s not the cold. She knows it’s not.

He rests his hand on her lower back, ever so slightly. Veronica had prayed to God Archie wouldn't touch her, but of course, it was in vain. He’s too nice. Why did he have to be so nice? She doesn’t deserve that. Why can’t he be inside with Cheryl – why is he out there in the cold with her?

If he asks if she’s alright, she won’t be able to lie.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing her back just a little bit. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Whatever it is, it’s–”

She trembles, shaking her head. _It’s not_. She’s not worthy of this. She’s not worthy of his gentleness. She’s not worthy of anybody’s _love_. She wishes they knew that; she wishes she didn’t ruin everything she touched. Veronica feels the warm trail of tears on her cheeks and tries to hold a sob inside of herself.

Archie’s hand goes up her back until it reaches her shoulder, under her hair, and he presses it so firmly it hurts a little. She closes her eyes, trying to control her breathing, but it’s _so_ cold – his hand is warm. She’s drawn to his body like a moth to a flame, leaning until her side is pressed against his, and he slowly places his arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer, letting her rest her head in the crook of his neck.

She hides her face in his warm neck, aware that he feels her tears on his skin. Somehow the proximity feels better than the distance – the way he smells, it’s inviting, so clean and _different_ from everyone else, new and familiar at the same time. Archie kisses the side of her head, also inhaling deeply, and they stay like this for a moment, his lips pressed against her hair, his body making her feel warmer from the inside out.

Breathing next to him feels a little easier, and she hates it – because he’s with Cheryl. He wasn’t supposed to be _here_ , but she also can’t find the strength to not want him close and near.

 

 

 

**8 HOURS EARLIER**

In Veronica’s room, she and Betty are getting dressed to the Halloween dance, which has been carefully planned by Betty and Josie all through the past two weeks. It’s bound to be quite fun – everyone, from freshmen to seniors, is invited, since the intention is to raise money for the senior prom that will be held later in the school year.

Veronica is going as a vampire, burlesque-ish and sexy, a black and midnight blue brocade corset attached to a short skirt full of lacy layers. Her makeup is all dark, eyeshadow and lipstick matching in the same dark berry shade, and her favorite part is the thick fake-blood spilling under her velvety choker, making trails down her chest.

Betty, who is dressed as Chucky’s Bride in a short, white cocktail dress all ripped off and splattered with fake-blood, has her eyes closed as Veronica finishes up carefully painting her lips with a black lipstick that took her a whole hour to convince Betty to wear.

“God, you look amazing. I am very glad to be your date tonight, Betty Cooper,” Veronica says, placing an eyeliner mole on Betty’s upper lip. She opens her eyes, and the green irises pop out in the middle of all the black eyeshadow around them. “Jughead is an idiot for not wanting to be your Chucky.”

Betty would blush if her natural skin wasn’t hidden by the fair foundation covering her face. “Well, he already has lost me to the fairest vampire in town.”

“And the deadliest.” Veronica lifts an eyebrow and smiles, fluffing Betty’s blond hair so it has more volume around the roots.

Betty giggles as Veronica leans down to look at herself in the mirror. She’s considering staining her chin with fake blood as well, to make it look like she’s just bitten someone, when Betty’s eyes meet hers through the reflection. “I honestly thought you’d go with Cheryl. You know, like at the semi-formal,” Betty says, very carefully.  
  
Veronica holds a sigh. After the Variety Show and lying down beside Cheryl, tucked in her arms, sleeping with the promise of _we’ll talk in the morning_ , one would think that their friendship would be fixed by now, but the truth is that it still isn't. Rekindling with Betty was easy, natural, one laugh and everything was forgiven; with Cheryl, however, Veronica finds herself surprisingly wary around her, and she can't really pinpoint why.  
  
They had talked that morning, after lying to Clifford and Penelope about Veronica sleeping over, which was easier since Jason covered for them. Cheryl said she did still love her, of course she did; and that she would try very hard to find it in her heart to forgive Veronica for what she had said and done – the only thing she asked in return was not to be treated like second best.  
  
Maybe it is the pressure, the fear of saying or doing something wrong, but Veronica feels like she’s been walking on eggshells around Cheryl, still. Even going with Betty as her date makes her feel somewhat guilty, like she is doing something wrong. But it isn't like there had been a possibility to go with Cheryl, since… Well.  
  
“One dance for her, one dance for you. It’s fair. Besides, she’s in good company, since Archie is taking her.” Veronica looks down, just so Betty doesn’t read anything in her eyes.  
  
“If I know Cheryl, _she_ is taking him,” Betty jokes, making Veronica chuckle.  
  
“Maybe,” she says, heaving out a breath, very concentrated in storing away all of the makeup that was spread out on her vanity table. “But, you know, I’ve never seen her care about a boy so much before, so… Maybe he’s the one. I mean, he’s going to be the whipped astronaut to her Martian Britney Spears.”  
  
There’s a smile lingering on her lips at the thought of how ridiculous and cheesy Cheryl and Archie’s costumes are, but she’s quite aware that the smile doesn’t mean what she wants it to mean. It’s not as happy as she wants it to be.  
  
She quickly glances to the mirror, just in time to see Betty making a face. “This is too weird,” she says. “One, he looks like Jason, and it’s creepy. Two, I know you said the song was about her, but…”  
  
“Trust me,” Veronica interrupts her, sighing, the image of Archie and Cheryl sharing that small moment before the Variety Show _ingrained_ in her brain. “It was about her.”

“I don’t know, V.” Betty gets up, standing next to Veronica in front of the mirror, with the excuse of helping her organize the things. “I still find it weird. I mean, I just always thought he was still into _you_ , even after the whole…”

“Yeah, but you also thought I was having an affair with _Jughead_ , so there you go,” Veronica interrupts her, sharp. She doesn’t want to talk about this – she shouldn’t have even brought it up.

Betty raises her eyebrows. “Okay, V,” she says, but she doesn’t seem all convinced. Veronica is quite literally saved by the bell, then – Betty’s phone starts ringing, and she can read Jason’s name on its screen, signalizing that their ride has arrived. “Are we ready?” Betty smiles.

Veronica smiles back, _commanding_ herself not to think about it any longer. She grabs the little bottle with the chocolate-tasting fake blood and shakes it. “Let’s paint the town red.”

 

 

 

 

Archie is lying down on his bed, back flat against the mattress, screwing around on his phone while he waits for the right time to pick up Cheryl. Little by little his Instagram feed is getting filled with pictures from his schoolmates in their costumes–  some of the Vixens are going dressed as sexy-zombies, or something like that, and Ginger has posted a picture of them under some sort of black light that makes their makeup glow. Jason also posted a selfie, wearing a white shirt and pants, and some sort of fake gunshot in the middle of his forehead. Archie likes the photo, smiling at it little.

He is also wearing white – an astronaut jumpsuit. He looks a bit like a stormtrooper or a marshmallow, but it’s nice, to be honest, one of the nicest Halloween costumes he has ever worn – he’d always chosen such standard, unoriginal costumes before.

Cheryl had picked everything, had bought the costume for him – he still needed to pay her back – and it fits him perfectly because she actually took his measures one day, in the middle of the hallway, announcing that he would make her little girl dream come true. They would go together as Britney Spears and the astronaut from the _Oops! I Did It Again_ video.

Archie had a stupid reflex to pretend not to _really_ know what that was all about, but like every other millennial straight guy, he _had_ previously jacked off to the sight of Britney Spears wearing that red vinyl thing. He shrugged, trying to forget about it, telling Cheryl he had a phase as a kid where he wanted to be an astronaut, anyway.

It was a little weird to Archie that they were going matching, since they were also just going as friends, but he had seen friends matching at dances before. So he just decided not to read too much into it.

He said _yes_ to her because he didn’t feel like he could say _no_. The weeks between the Variety Show and the Halloween dance were tiring and busy – he _had_ so much to do, the Mustangs had more games coming up, and to be honest, he didn’t think his mom would allow him to attend the dance since the SATs were right around the corner. But when Cheryl had invited him, all bright-eyed and excited, his mom said it was nice that he was acting like a _young man his age_ again, and he felt like he would be very dumb to pass up the opportunity to spend some time with – surprisingly – one of his closest friends in Northside Prep, who would look amazing in that red outfit.

Plus, it’s not like _anyone else_ invited him – especially not girls who were trying to be his friend, so they were a little cautious around him ever since he decided it would be a good idea to pour his very not-friendly feelings into a song. Especially not girls who were apparently also trying to be friends with their ex-boyfriend and were always seen hanging out with him in the hallways, laughing in that special way. Especially not girls named Veronica Lodge.

To be honest, he kind of misses her. It isn’t like the time they stopped speaking, though – she wasn’t ignoring him. She was around a lot. The problem was that she was around when Betty was around, or Kevin, and even though he had plenty of her, there was not _enough_ of her, enough of her quick glances and the way she bit her lip, enough of her flirty smiles whenever he said something just a little more daring.

Archie bites on his lower lip for a while. Despite his better judgement, he clicks on the _search_ field and types her username. He’d seen a story of her and Betty getting dressed together, earlier on, and he almost passed out when he saw the costume she’d be wearing, the dark, sultry make-up that made her look so _dangerous_ and the little droplets of fake blood running down her neck. He presses her avatar, so he can watch the video again – Betty filming Veronica’s reflection as she finished doing something with her lashes, and then Ronnie kinked her eyebrow and grinned as she realized she being recorded.

He switches from Instagram to his messaging app and opens up her chat history, which was quiet as usual. The last text they exchanged was a week ago – when he forwarded her a random cute kitty picture and she responded it with a purple heart. He wishes he was daring _now_ and that he could find something to say to her about _anything_ , anything that wasn’t _hey, will you bite my neck?_ which is exactly the kind of thought he wishes he’d stop having.

Archie sighs. Maybe it’s time to swallow his pride and search for real guidance.

Fred answers on the third ring, sounding half-concerned, half-chirpy. “Arch! Hey, kiddo!”

Even though Fred calls him almost every morning before Archie leaves for school to say things like _have a nice day_ and _dad loves you_ , hearing his voice always makes his chest constrict a little – it’s always so close to home, and yet so distant. Riverdale, chatting while having toast and eggs, stealing flannel shirts from his closet, it’s like it happened to someone else, in another life, and it’s only been two months.

“Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”

“I’m well. Everything’s alright. What about you? I’ve been told you might be going to Mars tonight.”

Archie chuckles. “Yeah, apparently. I probably look dumb, but there’s this guy from the team that’s going as a _banana_. So.”

It’s true. Steve is going as a banana – he’d posted pictures too, and they were hilarious. His dad thinks so too, since he cracks up on the other side of the line. “I would love to see that,” he says.

Archie smiles, missing Fred even more. Then his stomach stirs a bit, thinking about all the dances during sophomore and junior year, when his dad wanted to be a chaperone and Archie wouldn’t let him because he was either too worried about Fred noticing what was going on with Geraldine, or not going because he wouldn’t be able to touch her.

“I’ll send you a picture,” Archie says.

“So…” Fred starts, after a beat of silence. “Why are you calling your old man?”

“Do I need a reason now?”

“No,” he hears his father smile, “but you’ve got one.”

“Yeah. I… I need your advice, but I don’t know. I haven’t figured out yet what I _really_ need it for, so I’m going to be vague.”

Fred chuckles. “Oh, the vaguer the better. Parenting should be a challenge.”

Archie inhales deeply, and when he exhales, he also whispers, “You see, there’s this girl…”

“There usually is, yeah.”

“I– I feel stupid for even saying this, but when I met her, I thought we– I don’t know, like we connected, you know? And I think– no, I _know_ she felt the same way.”

“Uh. The girl with a boyfriend who got you punched your first week of school?”

“ _Ex-_ boyfriend,” Archie corrects him, feeling his face heat up as it usually did whenever someone mentioned Reggie. “And yeah, but it’s not like– that wasn’t her fault.”

“You told me that about a hundred times,” Fred says. “Are you taking her to the dance tonight?”

“No,” Archie clenches his jaw, “we’re just friends. Me and this girl. Well, me and my date as well, we’re friends.”

“Okay. So, what’s the matter?”

“That’s the matter,” Archie blows out another breath. “I– I didn’t think I was going to the dance, and then she invited me – my date – and I keep thinking that what I really wanted to do is to go with the other girl, but she just wants to be friends, and I don’t know if I can do that, but I also– I don’t wanna be the guy who can’t be friends with someone because he wants more? And I mean, I also don’t wanna lose our friendship. Me and the girl’s, not me and my date’s – I don’t wanna lose that friendship as well.”

“Yeah, that was vague,” Fred says, and there’s laughter in his voice. Archie sinks his head into the mattress – maybe this was a bad idea. His dad probably hears his frustrated sigh, because when he talks again, he sounds more serious. “Listen, kiddo. If you and your date are only going as friends, and if being involved with the black-eye girl–”

“Her name is Veronica.”

“Okay. If being involved with Veronica won’t get you into trouble anymore, I don’t see why you can’t be brave, and you know, let her know how you feel.”

Archie swallows hard – he wants to tell his dad about the song and how she got weird after that, but something stops him. He sang it to the whole school, yes, but _saying_ it out loud somehow meant too much – he didn’t want anyone to think, or know, that he was in it so deep. “I’m afraid this might ruin what we have. If she wants to be friends, why can’t I just… be her friend?”

“Here’s the thing, son. If you think she doesn’t want anything else, you have to decide what’s more important to you – being around her as friends knowing that it will be rough, and that you’ll have to swallow whatever it is that you’re feeling, or being brave enough to let her know what you feel and maybe losing her in the process but, maybe, getting what you really want.”

Archie stares at his white ceiling, breathing at a steady pace, trying to put organize his thoughts.

Fred comes back when he realizes Archie is not answering. “Listen, why don’t you just go, and try to have some fun? Have a nice time with your date, your friends? You’re a great kid, Arch. If this girl gets to have you as a friend or as something else, she’ll be a very lucky girl.”

 

 

 

 

The gym is perfectly decorated for Halloween. It doesn’t even _look_ like a gym anymore – there is some sort of plastic tent all around the court, splattered with fake-blood like they were inside a crime scene or something, and UV lights that make everything pop in neon colors. There’s fog covering the whole floor and fake spider webs hanging from the ceiling.

“Betty Cooper,” Kevin appears right in front of Betty and Veronica, kinda out of nowhere – he looks great, though, a sexy cowboy or something, with a yellow checkered shirt tucked inside tight jeans and a leather belt with some big silvery buckle. He’s also wearing a vest, a red handkerchief tied around his neck, and the look is complete with his matching hat and boots. “This place looks so amazing. Will you plan my wedding?”

Betty would’ve blushed if she was looking a little less _white_ from all the fair foundation. “Not if you’re marrying _my brother_ ,” she teases.

Kevin rolls his eyes. “Will you ever let this go?” he asks, sighing. Both Betty and Veronica laugh a little. It’s so _weird_ for Veronica to be at a dance and talking to them both after spending a whole year trying to avoid them at any social event – she still can’t believe, sometimes, that she did patch things up with Betty.

If only things were as easy with Cheryl.

“I gotta go say hello to the chaperones.” Betty wraps her hand around Veronica’s arm. “Will you be okay with Kevin for a minute?”

“Are you kidding me?” Veronica wraps one arm around Kevin’s waist. “It’s the perfect theme, saloon girl vampire meets hot cowboy who is desperate for a taste.”

Kevin enfolds her in a side hug, chuckling. “If only hot cowboy was still trying to be straight.” 

“Well, just don’t bite anyone I wouldn’t bite,” Betty says, throwing Veronica a pointed glance. “Either of you.”

As soon as she leaves, white dress shining in a blue-ish tone, Kevin and Veronica look at each other, and Kevin shrugs. “She didn’t tell us not to drink punch.”

 

 

 

 

The punch looks hazardous, glowing in a teal color, some red syrup on the jar’s borders dripping like blood. Veronica and Kevin get some, and luckily it has already been spiked, which means Moose and Reggie must be around somewhere. Since the party is open to all the high schoolers, the gym is packed with three times more people than in the semi-formal, and with all the costumes and flickering lights, it’s not so easy to separate their classmates from other students. 

While standing next to the punch table, Veronica is sipping her drink when she sees Cheryl arriving, unmistakable in that tight red vinyl jumpsuit that makes her perfect figure stand out, her hair long and straight, and her eye makeup sparkling. Veronica holds her breath – Archie is by her side, standing out under the UV lights since he’s wearing an entirely white astronaut jumpsuit, and he’s holding a stupid helmet under his arm. He’s looking around, his hair darker given the lighting, messy like it had been during the Variety Show. Cheryl probably fixed that for him again.

“Oh, my God,” Kevin says, probably spotting them too, “and here I was, thinking they’d look ridiculous.”

Cheryl sees them first. There’s a thoughtful expression on her face for the slightest moment, as she drinks in Veronica’s costume, but then it shifts to a sweet, bright smile. She waves, grabbing Archie’s hand to pull him towards them.

It’s true. They look so good that it’s a little disconcerting.

“Hey, you,” Cheryl says to Veronica when she approaches them, reaching out to touch the ends of Veronica’s hair. Veronica bites on her lower lip, avoiding really looking at Archie’s face. She takes Cheryl’s hand, and they intertwine their fingers, dark manicured nails and different skin tones. Veronica wants to hug her, but she’s still so unsure of where they stand. Maybe she should just be grateful they’re speaking again. “Very _Anne Rice_ , I love it.”

“Are you kidding? Look at you.” Veronica gets Cheryl to spin, and it’s nice to hear her giggling and to see her red hair fluttering around her. “You look like a daydream, Cher, _really_.”

“You look like a daydream too, Arch, don’t worry,” Kevin teases, punching Archie’s shoulder and making him chuckle. Veronica looks at him, and their eyes and smiles meet briefly in recognition. She wants to say that he’s very handsome too – it’s true. Veronica can feel it somewhere in her stomach – but it doesn’t seem so appropriate given that he’s her best friend’s date.

“Keller, pour me some punch, will you?” Cheryl asks – well, demands – her fingers still tangled in Veronica’s. “I’m feeling that tonight it’s gonna be a good one.”

“Pour it yourself,” Kevin answers, purposely rude, and it makes Cheryl’s mouth hang open.

“Ungrateful little bitch,” she says, letting go of Veronica’s hand so she can cross her arms over her chest. “If it wasn’t for _me,_ your Variety Show would be an utter disast–”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make me your _butler_ ,” Kevin crosses his arms too, “not even if you’re dressed as Queen Britney for the night.”

“Oh, my God, enough already. I’ll get you some punch, Cheryl,” Veronica says, rolling her eyes. “You want some too, Archiekins?”

It’s unintentional. She calls him that before she can help herself. Kevin raises his eyebrows until they almost disappear into his hat, and Veronica feels her face heating up, slightly frozen. She has been so careful around Archie the past couple of weeks, after learning that he and Cheryl were in the middle of a _thing_ , a thing involving feelings. She didn’t want to bring back to anyone’s memories that they had been close, that they had unplanned nicknames for each other, that they’d share the same taste in their mouths once.

“Uh,” Archie says, scratching the back of his head in that boyish way of his “no, actually, _Ronnie_.” He smiles at her, and it relaxes her somehow. They are just friends, and friends do call each other by nicknames – she calls Cheryl _Cher_ , Betty _B_ , Kevin _Kev_. _Archiekins_ doesn't need to mean anything else. “Designated driver.”

“Of a spaceship?” Moose materializes by Archie’s side, and Kevin chokes mid sip. He’s dressed as a _basketball player_ , in the most unoriginal costume there ever was. Archie laughs a bit, just because he’s a genuinely nice guy who’d laugh at anyone’s jokes, and Veronica bites the inside of her mouth as she pours Cheryl’s drink.

“Did you come as a _basketball player_?” Kevin asks, and he sounds outraged by Moose’s lack of imagination.

“Yeah.” Moose shrugs, taking Kevin’s drink and sipping it like it is no big deal. He looks at Kevin, and then at Archie, and makes a face. “Are you guys matching?” Everybody frowns. The only ones actually matching are Archie and Cheryl, but Moose isn't really pointing at them. No one answers, and he realizes that he’ll have to explain his line of thought. “Woody and Buzz Lightyear.”

Veronica cracks up. She hadn’t notice until now that Kevin dressed as a cowboy in a yellow shirt and Archie in that astronaut suit _could_ easily be cosplaying _Toy Story_.

“Jesus, did you hit your head or something?” Cheryl asks Moose, taking the drink Veronica offers her.

“When he was a baby.” It’s _Reggie_ who says that, appearing at Moose’s side, one arm around his teammate’s neck.

There are three things Veronica notices: one, Reggie’s narrowed, bright eyes going up and down her body; and maybe it’s the punch kicking in, but her face is hot – it’s a little unsettling to have him looking at her like that when he knew how she looked like naked; two, he looks _damn good_ , dressed like a disheveled pirate or something like that, his shirt half-open exposing his chest; and three, Archie’s jaw clenching at the sight of him.

Veronica drinks, just so she has something to do that won’t give away anything on her face. The DJ, who had been playing some really low, background music, suddenly turns up the volume; the song is interspersed by screams, and the lights start blinking franticly, making everything look exactly like a nightmare. Excited, the students started gathering in the dancefloor to dance.

“I say bottoms up!” Kevin announces, suddenly, and everybody except for Archie raised their punch glasses and downed their contents. Leaving his empty glass in the counter, Kevin says, “Come on, Buzz,” as he grabs Archie’s arm, pulling him to the dancefloor – Cheryl looks at Veronica before shrugging and following both boys, and Moose is right after them.

“Where’s Midge?” Veronica asks Reggie, pouring more punch into her cup before going after her friends on the dancefloor. Apparently, he stayed behind to refill his drink as well.

“She is coming with the other Vixens,” Reggie says. She looks at him in the corner of her eyes, and _yep_. He looks very handsome, a little messier than he usually is, his hair in its natural state, thick and black, no wax or anything. “You’re coming later, right?” he asks suddenly, his eyes fixed on the punch bowl. “To the lake house?”

 _Oh_. Veronica had forgotten about this tradition – every year after the Halloween dance, the post-party is hosted at his parent’s lake house up in Glencoe. To be honest, she didn’t think she’d be invited to any event held by Reggie after the breakup, but they have been making progress in becoming civil again. She wouldn’t call them _friends_ just yet, but a lot of their initial bad blood is being drained.

“Hm, I don’t know,” Veronica says. She had a great time with her friends at Steve’s party after the Variety Show, but she isn't sure she is prepared to go to another one just yet, let alone one held by her ex-boyfriend. “Is everybody going?” she tilts her head to the others on the dancefloor.

“You know everybody’s going. Some of them even stay for too long.” Reggie winks at her before taking a sip of his neon punch, and Veronica feels her face heating up _again_. She remembers it well, the party from last year, when she and Reggie were in the middle of a very heated make-out session in the living room, thinking everybody was gone, and a drunk Jason showed up. – he started complaining about being afraid of Polly graduating and forgetting about him. Reggie kept trying to touch her then, under the cape she had thrown over their legs to hide any evidence of what they were trying to do, and she needed to hold her moans while giving Jason some half-assed advice.

It’s the first time she feels like they could be _flirting_ in a very long time, and it’s somewhat startling. Veronica glances at the dancefloor – Kevin and Moose are dancing side by side, and Cheryl is still there too, her hands up in the air. Archie, though, is nowhere to be found.

 

 

 

 

The theme for the Halloween party is “ _Nightmare_ ”, and Archie, who is one hundred percent sober amidst his drunk and drunker colleagues, feels like he’s actually trapped in one. His jumpsuit is too hot, the blinking lights and all that sweet-smelling fog make the ambiance a little claustrophobic, and every time he steals a peek at Veronica, there is Reggie Mantle.

Considering the amount of drama that has already happened during his first two months – that really feel like a lifetime – at Northside Prep, this dance is running smoothly. He hangs out with Cheryl most of the time, following her to the punch table every now and then, dancing with her to upbeat songs, trying to have fun just like he promised his dad he would. He also spends a little time with Kevin, Moose, and Midge – still trying to figure out how the hell that worked – and he even dances a bit with Betty and Veronica, getting to twirl her around a couple of times; his heart feels lighter when he hears her laughing, and he remembers his father’s words about being brave.

But then, there is Reggie Mantle, showing up with a new punch cup for her, or a silly joke that she rolls her eyes at, and Archie hates it so much; he can’t even be around them for too long.

Around eleven, Archie is already over it. Cheryl is a little tipsy, and she seems to be a moody drunk, pouting and sighing, upset with something that he can’t really pinpoint what it is – he just hopes that it isn’t _him_. She abandons him at a table to dance with Josie and the other girls, and he decides to take a quick trip to the bathroom.

And when he’s washing his hands, there’s Reggie Mantle, stopping at the sink right beside him, a silly smile on his face that makes Archie want to punch him.

“Hey,” Reggie says, as if he’d only seen Archie in that moment. Reggie’s a little drunk too, given that his skin is somewhat red around his cheekbones. Archie nods, not wanting to respond, but, apparently, Reggie is a talkative drunk. “Great game the other day.”

Archie sighs. Last week, the Mustangs won their second game of the tournament, beating the Amundsen Vikings in their first game away from home. It was a great game indeed, but Archie remembers Reggie ignoring him completely after it – not that he wanted a handshake or anything, to be honest. So it’s just a little weird that he’s bringing it up _now_. “Yep.”

“The team’s got a party tonight after this thing, down at my parents’ lake house,” Reggie says as he dries his hands, “in Glencoe, thirty-minute drive from here.”

Archie frowns. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

Reggie shrugs. “I said _the team_ , didn’t I?”

It catches Archie off guard, the way he says it, like it’s not weird at all, like there is no history between them whatsoever. Reggie doesn’t seem to be overthinking it, giving him that silent invitation before leaving the room, and Archie just feels like he might as well really be on Mars – nothing is making any sense. It’s probably a trap.

He takes in a deep breath before going back to the gym, immediately hit by the flashing lights and the loud music, and his plan is to find Cheryl. He wants to ask her if she has been invited to Reggie’s thing too, but he can’t find her anywhere. On a twist of fate, the first person he actually finds is Veronica, who is sitting at the same table he had been at before, the fake blood dripping all the way down her cleavage and an empty punch cup in her hand.

He likes her hair like this, all messy and voluminous; he wonders if it’s her _bed hair_. The thought makes something get stuck in his throat. Archie gets closer to her despite himself, hands shoved into his jumpsuit pockets. Did astronauts even _need_ pockets? “So…” he says, and he can see that she changes her posture almost immediately when she sees him, squaring her shoulders, chin tilting up. “You won't believe who I was just talking too. You have three guesses.”

She gives him that little smile that shows up on her face from time to time, and he pulls a chair to sit by her side while she pretends to be thinking, tapping her finger on her chin. “Louis Armstrong? _E.T._? Matthew McConaughey in that mindfuck movie?”

Archie laughs. He had been a little scared that she’d avoid him like she has been doing since the Variety Show, but maybe the alcohol has gotten to her, from the way that she’s looking at him under her long and thick eyelashes. “Well, it was almost an alternate universe, yes. _Reggie_ just invited me to his lake house.”

“Oh, of course he did. Reggie’s lake house party is a big event. He needs all the great basketball players and pretty boys with guitars he can get.” She says that and giggles, looking down, almost bashfully. Archie feels his face heating up, and he’s lucky for the UV lights that won’t let her witness him blushing around her _again_. He bites his cheek inside his mouth, and wonders if he should say something, if now’s the time to be _daring_ again, when she looks back up at him. “Are you thinking about going?”

Archie feels somewhat lightheaded, face still warm. “I suppose I’ll go if Cheryl wants to go.” He shrugs.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Veronica makes a face, pressing her lips together. She looks down again at her empty cup, turning it around, watching as a single neon droplet hangs on the cup’s edges. Archie frowns. He’s confused – it’s like she had forgotten that Cheryl is his date for a moment, and that the realization wasn’t… She looks at him looking at her, and her eyes widen. “I mean, _yeah_ , of course, you’re here together. It makes sense.”

Archie bites on his lower lip, trying to prevent the smile on his face from getting too big. She’s still fidgeting with the empty cup in her hand. “Are you jealous, Ronnie?”

Veronica looks at him for a slight second, and then smiles with her dark, berry mouth, tilting her head to the side. “ _Please_ ,” she says, her voice again full of sheer confidence. It drops to a lower pitch when she continues, “I’ve had one great after-party with Archie Andrews.”

Archie has to hold his breath for a long moment – so, she hasn’t forgotten how amazing it felt when they were together back in September.

He smiles with the corner of his lips. She’s just so fucking beautiful, with that fake blood smudged on her chin, big brown eyes gazing at his. He hasn’t been alone with her like this since the Variety Show, and his father was right. Maybe it’s time he’s braver and _tells her_ how he feels, tells her that he knows they’re supposed to be just friends but that he can’t do it. He doesn’t have it him, to stare at her for any longer without kissing her again.

Slowly, he lets his breath out his chest, and involuntarily flicks his tongue over his lips to wet them. Veronica’s expression shifts into something more serious, and she opens her mouth to say something else, when all of a sudden Cheryl arrives in a flash of red. She sits right on top of Veronica’s legs.

“I’m back,” Cheryl says, resting her cheek on Veronica’s hair. Archie feels weird – even if he went to the party with Cheryl as friends, it would be such a dick move to make his mission for the night confessing his feelings for someone else. Veronica loosely wraps her arms around Cheryl’s waist. “You smell nice,” Cheryl says, kissing the top of Ronnie’s head. Only then she notices Archie. “Ohh, if it isn’t my estranged spaceman.”

Cheryl is considerably drunker than she was the last time Archie saw her – she gets up from Veronica’s lap, and then almost trips into his. Archie laughs, holding her securely for a moment, and she kisses the top of his head as well. “Do I smell nice too?” He asks. Cheryl mutters _mhmm_ against his hair, and Archie braces himself on the chair, trying not to touch Cheryl anywhere inappropriate. He looks at Veronica, who doesn’t look _jealous_ at all – in fact, she’s smiling at the scene almost with fondness.

“I’ll go get her some water,” Veronica says, getting up, and showing them the empty cup. “And me some punch,” she sighs. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She isn’t.

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuugh! long time no see. so, the reason why it took me so long to post this chapter is a) i'm working like a crazy biatch and b) i wrote 12k words for this chapter, which is the reason why it's a little shorter than the others - i had to split it in two parts. you can see that this chapter has a slightly different format, it starts with a scene that happens *after* the rest of the chapter, so bear in mind that the events from this chapter and the next one will lead to the first scene of this chapter lol. is it too confusing? i don't think so.
> 
> anyway, it was like giving birth for a child. it's a very dense chapter and i'm glad i'll post it in two parts, this way you guys won't get overwhelmed. the worst and the best is yet to come so? i hope you like this. paralleling the 1x05 scene, finally! yay.
> 
> i'll post chapter 18 (the second part for this chapter) in exactly a week, since it's already done ;) i am looking forward to reading your comments and answering your questions here or in my tumblr, andsmile! thank you so much for the continuous love and support. as usual, a huge thank you to nic, who helps me through this all <3
> 
> song at the beginning is "somebody" by rhodes and i HIGHLY recommend you listen to it while reading the chapter. beautiful song!


	18. Chapter 18

_i'm not the same anymore  
(maybe we've gone too far)_

 

 

 

 

Glencoe is such a small town – it tugs at his heartstrings. There’s a lot of green, and the streets are all the same; it makes him think of Riverdale.

Reggie’s lake house is what one would imagine Reggie’s lake house would be – huge, with more bathrooms and bedrooms than a house would ever need, exquisitely furnished by old money, with clear views of Lake Michigan in its most natural, wild surrounding. There’s a wooden pier that goes from the house straight to the lakeshore, which is lit by some carefully placed torches.

Archie has been waiting to fall into some sort of trap ever since he walked through the door with Cheryl, but nothing has happened yet – in fact, Reggie had downright welcomed him with a jello-shot that he immediately passed to Cheryl, who rolled her eyes at the sight of the drunk pirate but downed the shot anyway.

He gets a soda and nurses it for a long time, while Cheryl disappears with the Vixens to God knows where. Archie takes a self-guided tour of the lake house, bumping into one too many couples making out in dark corners. He’s definitely very surprised, however, when he reaches the back porch and finds Midge Klump wrapped up with a random guy dressed as a doctor, whom Archie has never seen before. He stares at them, confused, and quietly goes back inside.

Archie doesn’t understand – Midge and Moose took a ride with him, sitting together in the backseat, and he had seen, from the rear-view mirror, the couple exchanging pecks and sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Kevin was in Jason’s car with Betty and Veronica, and Archie always felt incredibly weird whenever he witnessed Midge and Moose being an actual couple when he knew that Moose was constantly cheating on Midge.

But still, seeing Midge cheat on Moose is weird. And it’s even weirder that she’d do it out in the open, where anyone could report it to her boyfriend. Did she find out about Kevin, and was maybe trying to get back at Moose?

Archie decides it’s definitely none of his business. But when he sees Midge again, not ten minutes later, she’s in the turned-to-dance-floor-living-room, dancing with Moose, her arms around his neck, and he is smiling lovingly at her. It doesn’t take long for Archie to find Kevin – he’s leaning against a wall, drink in hand, looking at the couple as if he wanted to murder someone.

Standing next to him, Archie scratches the back of his head. “So, how does this work?” he asks. It’s been two months of trying to figure it out, and he knows he _isn’t_ figuring it out without help.

“How does _what_ work?” Kevin sounds annoyed.

“Well, you know, you, Moose, and Midge.” He sighs. He _wants_ to tell Kevin about the guy Midge was just kissing, but after the misunderstanding regarding Veronica and Jughead and all the mess he made, he’s learned to bite his tongue.

“Moose and Midge are in a relationship, and I am not,” he says, bitter, and takes a sip of his beer. Archie looks at his friend, at the way the strobing lights hit his profile, how his lips are slightly curved down.

“Kev, I saw Midge kissing someone else outside,” he blurts out, because he’s such a terrible liar, and _fuck_ , Kevin looking _sad_ is not something he’ll ever be ready for.

But Kevin doesn’t look so surprised. In fact, he just shrugs, still watching Moose and Midge dancing together. “Oh, yes, she does that from time to time. It’s an _open relationship_.” He says the words like they aren't in English. Archie frowns, even more confused. “No one’s sneaking behind her back or anything. She knows all about us, and Moose knows all about… I don’t know, random guys, girls. Who knows. It’s all a little Big Love.”

Maybe Archie is too much of a small-town boy, lost in the middle of big city _modernity_ , because that arrangement sounds terrifying. He glances at the couple dancing – Moose turns her around and laughs, her fairy dress sparkling with the movement, and then he looks back at Kevin, who’s drinking again. “Are you… _okay_ with that?”

“I don’t know, Archie,” Kevin tilts his head, sounding even more irritated. “Are _you_ okay with bringing Cheryl as your date and taking her out to have pizza and hot chocolate, when we all know she’s _not_ the girl you like?”

Archie’s mouth hangs open for a bit. “How is this about me?” He breathes out, feeling his face heat up. From where they’re standing, he can see Cheryl, and she’s stopped dancing to engage in a surprisingly serious conversation with her brother. “Cheryl and I are just friends, and you and Mo–”

He stops speaking, because next to Moose and Midge, another _couple_ starts dancing, and of course, _of course_ , it’s Reggie and Veronica. Some other girls are there, too, and one could say that Veronica is actually dancing with Josie, because her arms are winding around the girl’s – who is dressed as Cleopatra – neck. But Reggie has the front part of his body basically glued to Veronica’s back, he’s singing lyrics by her ear, _now I’ve got you in my space I won’t let go of you_.

It’s like he’s hit with cold water or something. He swallows hard, clenching his jaw, wishing that the ground would swallow him up. For some stupid reason, he can’t look away. He can’t not wonder if that’s how it was, before he got to Chicago – Veronica and Reggie dancing together and her completely unaware that someone named _Archie Andrews_ even exists.

 _Be brave_ , his dad had told him. _Tell her_.

If only he could drink something. If only he could tell _Kevin_ the truth – how they flirted in Archie’s room those weeks ago, how she inspired him to finish the song, how he still looked for her first thing in the morning when they were at school, how they shared a small moment back at the dance.

“See,” Kevin says, and his eyes are glued to the same scene as Archie’s. He laughs a little, but it doesn’t sound like he’s happy. “ _That’s_ how it works, Arch. You feel like shit until you don’t anymore,” he shrugs again, and finishes up his beer in one big _gulp,_ “or until you decide to do something about it. I’ll be right back.”

 

 

 

 

It takes two minutes for Moose to look at his phone and abandon Midge on the dancefloor, which probably means that Kevin did decide to do something about it. Reggie finally leaves too, to greet some people who have just arrived at the house, and Veronica tries to pull Cheryl to the dancefloor. But Cheryl's still talking to Jason, so she pouts and turns around to find Betty, the girls leaving, giggling, arms linked together.

Archie wanders around the house for a little longer, still thinking that something will happen to him in this strange territory, Cola getting lukewarm in his red solo cup. Valerie is also a designated driver, and they talk on a couch for about half an hour, mainly about music and the possibility of Mr. Stuart giving him another chance after the Variety Show.

When she leaves to go to the bathroom – apparently the words _I’ll be right back_ are a code for _I’m bored of your company_ – Archie decides he might try to find Betty and Veronica just to say _hello_ , maybe try to understand what the hell happened back at the dance that made Ronnie disappear.

He does find them in one of the many unnecessary living rooms – they’re playing _Street Fighter_ against Reggie (yes, he’s _everywhere_ ) and banana-Steve. There’s a whole crowd cheering for Team B&V, and Betty seems particularly good at it – Veronica keeps pressing random buttons and swearing at the controls, but it seems like they’re winning.

He leans on the door frame to watch the match and feels utterly stupid: there she is, so beautiful that Archie could feel himself melting, laughing with her ex-boyfriend who is looking at her every other second, obviously completely oblivious to anything else other than her smile. The worst part is that he can’t even condemn Reggie for that.

He finishes that terrible soda and turns around to maybe get some more – he could get high on sugar, probably – when he sees a blur of red. It’s Cheryl and Jason, and it looks like their conversation has turned into a fight. She is clearly walking away from him, who tries to trap his hand around her wrist to stop her, but she pulls her arm, turning around with a livid expression. Amongst the cheering crowd and the loud music, he can’t hear what the siblings are saying, but whatever it is, it can’t be nice.

He frowns, wondering if he should approach them. Jason is gesticulating, pointing fingers at his sister, and she’s clearly trying to hold her ground. But her eyebrows are quivering, her arms are crossed over her chest. Archie can clearly see the words _fuck you_ coming out of her lips once Jason finishes, and she turns around, marching until she disappears from view. Jason sighs as he’s left behind, running one hand through his red hair, and walks in the other direction.

Archie doesn’t particularly want to go after Cheryl, but he does. He’s her friend and her date, after all, and it’s not right that he just pretends he saw nothing just because he wants to keep torturing himself by watching Reggie and Veronica interact and remind everyone that they were once a couple that was so in love.

Inhaling deeply, he follows the path he thinks she took – down a hallway, up some stairs. Some rooms are locked; some aren't, and Archie finds her behind the third door he tries. It’s an actual bedroom, and Cheryl’s standing by an open window, breathing the cool air from the night outside.

“Cheryl?” Archie calls her, trying not to startle her. She doesn’t look surprised when she turns her face slightly towards him. “I saw you with Jason, is everything alright?”

He comes closer to her as she blows out a breath. “It must be so nice to be Jason,” she says. And while her voice is clearly altered by all the alcohol, her head is held up high. “Golden boy, perfect boy, nothing’s wrong with him.”

Archie raises his eyebrows, smiling a little at how she’s slurring her words. “I’ve been told he’s Northside’s finest, yeah,” he says, just trying to make her smile too. She takes another deep breath, though, holding herself.

“The family business, great girlfriend who changed all her plans for him, he’s got it all figured out. Me?” She shrugs. “The train wreck who can’t even get to be her best friend’s best friend.”

She laughs a little, but there’s so much hurt in her voice. Archie has been noticing that Veronica and Cheryl’s rekindling has been nothing like Veronica and Betty’s – it’s like there is something else, some deeper level to be met there. Carefully, he reaches out a hand to touch her shoulder, feeling the red vinyl under his fingers. “Look, Ronnie loves you,” he says, smiling again. “You two will get through this. And I don’t know why you’d think that, but you’re not a train wreck. You’re not worse than Jason in anyway.”

Cheryl looks down, right to where he’s touching her shoulder, and she lifts up one hand to place it over his. “I am. God knows I am.”

“No, you’re not,” Archie says. “I think you’re awesome.”

Cheryl looks up at him, into his eyes. “Oh, Archie,” she says, in her most honest voice. He holds the smile, hopeful that she’ll smile too. She doesn’t. Instead, she places a hand behind his neck, pulling him towards her, crashing her lips onto his.

His first instinct is to frown, not fully closing his eyes as she holds his head with both hands, pressing his face against hers. Archie can taste the sweetness of her lipstick. He can feel the wetness of her tongue trying to surpass his lips, but he can’t quite bring himself to kiss her back. His hand is still on her shoulder, and he pushes her gently, pulling away from her, face twisted in a confused expression.

“What are you doing?” he asks, and his voice feels foreign to him. There’s a smudge of red lipstick on Cheryl’s upper lip.

There’s a moment of stillness where she swallows whatever answer and kisses him again.

 

 

 

 

Jason and Betty go back to Chicago around one in the morning. Veronica, who was engaged in an interesting, albeit drunk, conversation with Josie about the origins of jazz, decides to stay behind and catch a ride with someone else later. She promises to text Betty once she is safe at home.

She’s been tipsy since the dance, but she’s getting drunker at the party, having swallowed one too many jello-shots. Veronica dances a little, goes to the bathroom to reapply her berry lipstick, which was almost all lost to solo red cup rims, and regrets not leaving with Jason once she realizes the party is slowly fading away. Everyone left are just couples making out in corners, or drunk, random people she has never seen before.

Archie’s astronaut helmet is still on a coffee-table in a living room, but she can’t find him anywhere. She also can’t find Cheryl – but she isn’t really looking for either, since at this hour, they are probably wrapped up in each other in one of the many rooms in the Mantles’ lake house, or maybe in Jeffrey’s truck, which is still parked on the front yard.

Veronica knows her way around the lake house all too well. Going up one floor, she finds the door that leads to a library of sorts. The electric fireplace is on, bathing everything in an orangey tone. That was her favorite room in the house – it has big, floor height windows with a clear view from the lake, which is reflecting the silver moonlight. It’s refreshing to be alone even if just for a second, without alcohol or noise muffling her disorganized thoughts.

To say that imagining Archie and Cheryl together doesn't bother her would be lying, but it’s not like she hasn't been expecting it since the Variety Show. Teasing Archie back at the dance was stupid, and the way he had looked at her once it happened, the corner of his lips slowly going down as his smile faded away… Well, he knew it was a mistake, too.

She’s not one hundred percent sure if she’s jealous of _Archie_. To be honest, she thinks she might be jealous of _Cheryl_. It’s happening again, exactly what happened with Betty and Jughead – the moment she gets her friend back, just _barely_ , there is someone else in the picture who gets her time and attention. She feels bad for thinking like this – she feels selfish and suffocated by some green monster growling in her chest.

It hasn’t always been like that. Veronica used to be someone who never felt alone, always surrounded with happiness and great things, and now… Now, it’s like she’s only able to be herself when there’s no one around, and she’s not even sure of what _being herself_ means.

Veronica watches the lake’s surface from the window for a while until the sound of someone opening the library’s door startles her. Turning around, she’s just slightly surprised to see Reggie standing at the doorframe, his hair curling at the ends. “Hey. Why are you at the hiding spot? They’re playing beer pong.”

 _The hiding spot._ It makes her grin, full of nostalgia. Every time there was a party at the lake house while they were together, Reggie and Veronica would agree to use the library as a hiding spot if they wanted to get away from the other guests. She shrugs, crossing her arms in front of her body. “Just needed some silence.”

He comes closer, hands behind his back. “Is everything alright?” he asks. It’s quite adorable, really, because he’s clearly more than buzzed, but he’s still trying to sound sober, walking towards her in a very straight line.

“Yeah,” she says, quietly, but tries to maintain the smile on her lips. Looking back at the lake, she sighs, stating the obvious just to switch the conversation topic, “It’s a full moon tonight.”

“Luckily you’re a vampire,” he says, leaning against the window, ignoring the view and facing her, “not a werewolf.”

She chuckles. “Luckily _you’re_ not a werewolf. Did you know their bite is lethal to my kind?”

“Oh, _really_?” Reggie raises his eyebrows. “I’ll remember that for next Halloween,” he says, and they both laugh a little, until it hits them that it’s their last year of high school. Their smiles fade slightly.

“C’mon, they’ll probably have sick Halloween parties at… Evanston, is it?” she asks pointedly, and Reggie makes a curious face. Veronica bites her lip. “Jason might have mentioned that the scout from Northwestern University was talking to you after the last game.”

He smiles, but he doesn’t look too excited about it. “Yeah… Well, you know my parents. They don’t think fifteenth in the rankings is high enough for a Mantle, so…” He shrugs.

“They still want you to apply to Princeton?”

“Oh, yes. They still think I can follow Oliver’s footsteps.” He takes in a deep breath. Reggie’s older brother, Oliver, had done everything right, and it just enlarged the already big shoes Reggie had to fill in. “I’ll apply. I won’t get in, anyway, and then I can peacefully move my ass to whatever school will have me in California.”

She looks at him for a moment. He has always talked about the West Coast, and she can easily see him there, his skin getting darker as the days get longer, giving up his fancy jackets for fancy sportswear. Veronica used to try to fit herself into those images: large sunglasses on her face, a paperback novel ruined by salty-water, sipping on iced-coffee while he skated down Venice beach.

It used to be part of her dream as well – maybe just because her parents would never agree with it. The slightly rebellious feel of it was exciting. It all changed last spring, after she realized that to keep her parents clean she’d have to stick around, but now, looking back, she can see it was never what she really wanted.

She’s glad Reggie still wants it, though. She’s glad that, for all his troublemaker past, he has always been very clear about _getting out_. She’s glad that at least one of them will be able to.

“Well, being a werewolf in California might suck,” she says, her eyes leaving his face. “All the fur and the h–”

 _Heat._ Veronica stops talking, because Reggie places a hand under her chin, and suddenly presses his lips to hers. Her heart starts beating fast, way too fast, but differently from the other time he did that. She can’t move or push him away, frozen with the surprise.

It ends quickly, but not as suddenly as it began – he pulls back, opening his narrow eyes to hers, his Adam’s apple going up and down his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says, hand leaving her face, falling to the side of his body. “You were looking at me and I–”

Maybe she’s really drunk. She only realizes it now, as she feels a little dizzy, her lips slightly parted. She’s _still_ looking at Reggie. She’s completely aware that whatever is increasing inside her is undoubtedly _wrong_ , but it’s funny – there had been a time when Veronica thought Reggie would be the only person she’d want to kiss for the rest of her life. This certainty had been interrupted by Archie Andrews’ enticing new presence, but–

Maybe she’s really drunk, because she’s the one who kisses him next, wrapping her arms around his neck. Reggie sighs into her mouth, and it’s familiar; it’s so _sure_. It’s not surprising – it’s not ridiculously exciting, but it’s something sturdy, _something_.

She opens her mouth against his, their tongues meeting in the acquainted pace they’d established back when they were fifteen. One of his hands sinks into her messy hair, pulling it slightly. He’s taking deep breaths, pressing his body against hers, and Veronica keeps waiting for that fire to ignite, for his kiss to awaken something inside her. She’s always so alone. She doesn’t want to be alone anymore, and he… Once, he had been…

Reggie places both hands on her face, thumbs stroking her cheek softly, slowing the kiss down. Veronica doesn’t want him to – she places both hands on his shoulders, bracing herself, trying to kiss him harder again. But when he’s pulling back, she has no option but to allow him to touch her face gently, opening her eyes into his.

They’re both a little breathless, and Reggie is smiling tenderly, his nose bumping into hers. Veronica swallows hard – she wishes he’d just kiss her again and stop looking at her like that, but she’s also not sure she wants to keep on kissing him. The feeling inside her is not _fire_ , it’s... It burns differently. It burns like a huge fucking mistake.

His face changes slowly into another expression, something more serious. Taking a deep breath, Veronica tries again, closing her eyes, leaning in until they’re kissing one more time, her nails digging into his shoulders. She almost bites his lower lip, but he stops her. “You’re over me.”

He says that against her lips, eyes still closed, lips shining with her saliva. Veronica frowns, taking a small step back, her hands falling to the sides of her body. “What?” Reggie shakes his head, and he’s smiling again. But it’s not – it’s not the same smile. It’s sad, and it’s miserable. It cuts like a knife.

“You don’t want this,” he says, heaving out a breath.

 _I do,_ she wants to say. She _really_ wants to say, but it dies in her throat. “Reggie, I–”

“It’s better if we don’t do this,” he interrupts her again, running one hand through his thick hair. He sounds so sober now – she _feels_ so sober now – and he’s suddenly not smiling anymore. “It’s just a few more months anyway, and I can forget about us and about loving you. So it’s better if we don’t.”

 _Loving_. The one milestone they hadn’t reached in their relationship. Veronica feels her heart skip a beat – she used to be so glad Reggie had never said it, that he never demanded she’d say it back, that neither had ever felt the need to put their feelings into words. The notion terrified her somehow – love was something that could be talked into existence. While they were together, she cherished Reggie – she adored him and wanted every part of him. But _love_? It was just so huge, so powerful, so terrifying.

He doesn’t realize what he’s just said. Veronica swallows hard, heart racing, eyes starting to well up. “Yeah,” she says, so quietly that it’s barely audible.

“Yeah,” Reggie repeats. He’s not looking at her. “I’m gonna go. Make yourself at home.”

Veronica feels naked and foolish in that costume, her stomach tied up in a knot as he turns around.

“Reggie?”

He turns to her again, and there’s just the slightest, the faintest gleam of hope in his narrow eyes. It’s exactly what breaks her heart into a million pieces, sending shivers up her spine. She’s got nothing to say to him. Why did she kiss him? Why the hell did she do that? Because of her friends and their boyfriends? Because she just isn't the same person anymore and somehow she misses it, being that girl, having those dreams? She wishes she could tell him. She wishes she could say, _hey, I love you too,_ but she– she doesn’t. She just--

She never did.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

Reggie makes a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I’m not mad, Veronica. I’m not mad.”

 

 

 

 

Archie kissed Geraldine for the first time on a hot Tuesday afternoon, a music lesson turned into a ride turned into her climbing on his lap, the rain thumping furiously on the car, their heavy breathing fogging up the windows. The loud sounds, the heat, her mouth on his neck, everything was making him dizzy, like he had lost control of his own body.

He didn’t know, then, how to tell her he’d rather slow down, that he’d rather just kiss for a while, since kissing was something that he just learned to enjoy, still fifteen, still picking up the pieces from his first crush gone wrong. But Geraldine had her tongue so deep inside his mouth it was almost suffocating him, and he couldn’t say _stop_. Why would he, anyway? He should be so lucky; how could a man say _no_ to that, a beautiful woman whimpering against his mouth, pressing her hips against his?

Cheryl walks him back until the back of his knees hit the bed. He sits on the mattress, and she sits above him, and somehow having her long legs on either side of his thighs make him feel weird. They’re still kissing, but neither have dared to really open their mouths, so there has been no tongue just yet. Archie is not sure of what to do with his hands – _touch her_ , he supposes, sink them into her hair or grab her hips, but he leaves his hands on the mattress, eyes closed, trying to feel something.

Because why wouldn’t he feel something? He wasn’t broken, no matter how much his parents wanted him to be. Things had worked just fine when Veronica was kissing him, and he didn’t even think about Geraldine then. Cheryl is fucking gorgeous, her body is… Well, she is really hot, and the way she is breathing in deeply while kissing him, that sounded good. Why would Archie not feel anything? He’s just a guy, after all, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to ask her to stop just because he felt numb from inside out, right?

Tentatively, he places both hands on her waist, and the red vinyl is cold and almost slippery under his fingers. He’s slightly distracted by the texture, by the music downstairs. Cheryl’s hands slide down his neck, her long fingernails scraping his skin, and Archie squeezes his eyes shut, trying heart to focus on pleasure and not pain.

He pulls away a little, so he can catch a breath, but Cheryl won’t let him, kissing him again even harder, the tips of their tongues finally meeting between lips. She tastes like she smells, sweet and expensive. She finds the zipper in the front of his jumpsuit and pulls it down until it’s half-open, but Archie feels disconnected from his body, not on sync with it. Whatever’s happening with his blood might as well be happening to someone else’s blood. He can’t really _feel_ it, he just knows it’s happening.

His hands slide just a little further down to her hips, and Cheryl makes a sudden sound with her throat, pulling away. She gets up very fast, hiding her face on her hands.

Archie feels his face burn, his heart accelerated. Somehow, it’s like _nothing_ happened, but it did – he’s not sure why she pulled away. Did he do something wrong? Should he apologize? He realizes Cheryl’s hands are trembling, and his throat hurts when he swallows hard. “I’m sorry,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

She shakes her head, face still hidden. Archie wonders if he should go to her – it was probably the right thing to do – but he feels a little powerless, sitting on the bed with his heart beating in a weird way.

“It’s not–” she starts, taking a long, deep breath that she exhales when she uncovers her face, and her lipstick and eyeliner are smudged. “It’s not you,” she manages to say, and it makes Archie so sure that _yes_ , it’s him. He feels _ashamed_ somehow, that he wasn’t into it, that he couldn’t do _more_ ; Cheryl’s already so sad, and now he’s added rejection on top of it. Maybe if they kept going a little longer he’d come back to his body, he’d want it. “I’m– I’m going to go,” she says, but she won’t look at him. “I’m going.”

“Cheryl,” Archie calls, but he can’t move, he can’t run after her when she leaves, a trail of long red hair and sweet perfume. His head falls, and he looks down at his hands; it’s like they’re not his.

Once he _can_ move, he gets up, still a little out of it, still wondering if everything that happened _really_ happened. Archie looks for Cheryl for a while – the party is basically done, although the music is still playing and there are some people dancing and smoking what Archie thinks might be weed. He sees his helmet over a coffee table, and his stomach starts to twist.

Rationally, he knows that he and Cheryl had always been friends, _just friends_ , which is why it was so weird to kiss her. He also knows that whatever got her upset happened _before_ they started to make out. It was about whatever Jason told her, it wasn’t about _him_.

Still, he feels like shit that his inability to correspond her needs made her run away. Earlier, his dad sounded so proud when he called him _a great kid_ and trusted him to do the right thing, trusted him to be a gentleman. He wonders if he’s going to be a let down for the rest of his life, if his days of being a good guy were behind him, and from now on it would just be mistake after mistake. Maybe he wasn’t a good person, after all.

He doesn’t find Cheryl. In fact, he doesn’t see any friendly face in the rooms he scans through – no one from the team, no one from the Vixens, _no one_ , not even Reggie, just people he doesn’t know and that don’t care about him.

Going back to the ground floor, he drinks a whole glass of water and decides to take a short walk at the lakeshore before leaving. The cold air of the night would probably be good for him to organize his thoughts.

 

 

 

 

The sky is clear, almost black, and the full moon glows so bright it’s almost like someone has given it the mission to light up the entire lakeshore, painting the sand with a silvery sheen.

She looks like a work of art, a picture frame, the girl with raven hair sitting on the sand, a moment in time.

Archie takes a deep breath, and it’s like the air has finally hit his lungs again. The sight of her calms him somehow. He didn’t plan on finding Veronica _now_ , but had he ever planned on finding her, anyway?

He walks down the pier, watching as the wind blows through her hair, and realizes she’s rubbing her arms. Frowning, he wonders why she would be sitting alone in the cold. Maybe he shouldn’t approach her, given what just happened between him and Cheryl, but–

He’s right there beside her before he even realizes it, both staring at the pitch-black lake for a long, still moment.

“This looks like the beginning of a bad joke.” It’s the first thing he says, after a while, and his voice is low pitched. She looks downright miserable, just like he feels. “An astronaut and a vampire walk into a bar, or something.”

It’s stupid, but Veronica chuckles anyway, and her little laugh makes him almost smile. He looks at her when she looks down, her beautiful face a distraction from all of the incoherent thoughts running through his brain as he tries to figure out what happened to her. Her lip is quivering, and it’s not the cold. Archie knows it’s not.

He gently touches her back, heart thumping at the base of his throat. She flinches, and he clears his throat. “It’s going to be okay,” he says. He says it because he wants to believe it too. His hand go up her back, and he feels a little sick – he’s just ran away from intimacy but he wants it now, wants to feel her hair between his fingers, wants to grasp her like she’s the only safe place in that mad world. “Whatever it is, everything is–”

Veronica shakes her head, and she might be crying. Archie grips her shoulder firmly, and when she leans her body against his, her head fitting so perfectly in the crook of his neck, he does believe in his own words. Maybe not now, maybe not tonight, but things will be okay, as long as he can hold her like this for a little longer.

He tilts his head a little closer to hers, his nose diving into her soft, black hair. His eyes prickle when he breathes in, and he closes them. It’s like he’s slowly coming back to his body, but he’s not all that sure that he wants to be in it.

She _is_ crying, he realizes when she holds a soft sob in her throat, coming a little bit closer to him. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, allowing her to come near. Archie kisses the side of her head, inhaling deeply, and they stay like this for a moment, his lips pressed against her hair, just keeping her close, just keeping her still, just re-encountering himself.

There are three distinct sensations on his neck: warmth, from the proximity, wetness, from the tears Veronica just left there, and a burning feeling, from where Cheryl had scratched him.

“C’mon,” he says. As much as he’d like to hold her for a little longer, until everything in that crazy night makes some sort of sense, it’s fucking freezing, and she’s wearing almost nothing. He thinks about his dad again, about being brave, about doing the right thing. “Let me take you home.”

“Okay,” Veronica says, nodding, her eyelashes tickling the side of his neck, but she only moves to bring her body closer to him, even deeper in his embrace.

Archie wants her, and that moment, to be the only thing on his mind. But it’s – _it’s not_. His body hurts badly, like it had just been beaten. Like it hurt back when Geraldine’s husband was actually breaking his ribs. There are mixed images in his brain of Geraldine and her sharp teeth, of Cheryl and her sad face, and he can feel Veronica’s heart beating as hard as the rain thumping on the car that Tuesday afternoon, and he’s just–

He will be brave. Just not today.

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here i am again, with chapter 18, which was supposed to be part of chapter 17. _i know_ many of you will be mad at me because of some things that have happened here, but i keep on asking you to trust me. the triangle(s) are important for a lot of things, and i guess it shows that nothing is really what it seems to be. archie's grundy-issues have been triggered and well, you know how important for me it's to tackle those issues. also, why were jason and cheryl fighting? veronica made a huge mistake, too.
> 
> i don't have much to say this time, except that we are entering a _very_ delicate arc and that it's not going to be easy to write it, so bear with me. i am of course so GRATEFUL for every and each comment and ask you've sent me. i hope you like this, from the bottom of my heart, even if it's not fun or smutty or whatever.
> 
> the song continues to be "somebody" by rhodes, and i highly recommend you listening to it while reading the chapter. without further do, thank you baby sis nicole and i hope to see you guys here and on my tumblr, andsmile!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **trigger warning:** this chapter deals with the consequences from statutory rape. It mentions emotional manipulation, suicide, and it describes anxiety attacks. if you're uncomfortable or you think any of these themes can trigger you in some way, stop reading it. my inbox is open on tumblr @andsmile if you want to talk about it.

_we have another thing coming undone  
and it's taking us over_

 

 

 

The car ride is silent. No Van Halen this time. No screaming at the top of their lungs.

Veronica rests her head on the window. Archie has turned the heat on, and she can feel, under the oversized Northside Prep burgundy sweatshirt he lent to her, her muscles relaxing, _defrosting_ , bit by bit. Her lids are heavy. She’s very tired.

Archie is tired too, though his eyes are very focused on the road – she can see it in the way his shoulders are weighed down, the light grip on the steering wheel. She brings her knees up, holding her bare legs closer to her body.

Veronica feels his gaze on her for a small moment.

“Did someone do something to you, Ronnie?” he asks. His voice is low, deep, and she knows he’s just asking out of sheer kindness. That boy is so good – it’s like he’s filled with it, and she can see the goodness spilling from his skin. Veronica feels her eyes prickle with tears again, engulfed in the scent and warmth of his sweatshirt, and she hates herself for feeling like this.

She shakes her head, sniffing. “ _I_ did something,” she whispers and takes a deep breath. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to look back at him and say: _I kissed Reggie, then I broke his heart. Again. And my heart, my heart feels like shattered glass that has been glued back in all the wrong places, and I don’t want to be loved. I don’t even know what that means._ “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Veronica hears him swallowing hard, and there’s another minute of silence where he makes a soft turn, taking an exit that will lead them back to Chicago, crossing a bridge over the Skokie River. “Okay,” he says, finally.

It’s only then that Veronica realizes that _shit_ , something must have happened to _him._ And to Cheryl, because she was nowhere to be seen when they went back to the house, Archie hasn’t mentioned her, not even once.  “Did Cheryl, uh, leave?”

She notices Archie’s hand grip the steering wheel tighter, notices the way his jaw clenches just for a second, and how his eyes look down and back at the road. “Yeah, she left earlier,” he answers with a slight grimace.

Veronica realizes she’d been holding her breath all along. Releasing it slowly, she bites her lower lip, refraining herself from asking anything else, because Archie _clearly_ doesn’t want to talk about it either. Maybe they had a fight or something, as couples often do. Cheryl had a lot to drink tonight. Everything would probably be okay by Monday.

Veronica’s hand flutters near her neck, and she takes off her choker, because her throat is constricting. It’s easier to breathe, for a moment, and she spends the rest of the way with her forehead against the window, watching her breath fog up the glass.

It’s drizzling in the city. Archie doesn’t say anything else, and neither does she, not until he slows down in front of The Pembrooke, the wheels making a particular sound against the wet pavement.

Veronica grabs the edge of his sweatshirt and starts to pull it upwards, but he stops her with his hand on her wrist. She looks up at him, and even though they were holding each other tightly on the lakeshore not one hour ago, _this –_ him touching her wrist so gently, like she was something precious, like she was something that shouldn’t be broken – feels wrong.

“It’s freezing, Ronnie,” he says, dark circles slowly forming under his eyes. “You should keep it.”

Veronica nods, swallowing. “I’ll wash it, and I’ll give it back to you this week,” she says. “Thanks, Archiekins.”

He gives her a soft, barely-there smile, just the corner of his lips gently turning upwards, not quite reaching his eyes. “Take care, Ronnie.”

Veronica gives him the same smile back, leaving the car, not daring to kiss his cheek, not daring to cross another line tonight.

She goes around the front of the car and climbs the stairs of her building, her bare legs shivering in the cold. Before going through the entrance, Veronica looks over her shoulder and watches Archie drive away into the night, trying to ignore the lump in her throat.

“Miss Lodge? Is everything alright?”

She’s a little startled by the doorman’s approach. Her eyes were glued to the wet marks on the pavement made by Archie’s truck, an ethereal proof that he’d been there a few seconds ago. Sighing, Veronica tries to smile bigger and better, just so the employee won't snitch on her to her parents.

In the penthouse, after sneaking in without making a sound and throwing herself on her bed without washing any of the fake blood or makeup off, Veronica reaches for her phone and sends Betty a text, letting her know that she is already safe at home. She wonders if she should say something to Cheryl, if she should ask what happened between her and Archie that made him so miserable but decides against it. She wonders if she should say something to Reggie, but her heart contracts and hurts because the only thing she could’ve said, she didn’t. She wouldn’t. She can't.

Veronica falls asleep in Archie’s sweatshirt, engulfed by the feel of it and by the scent lost between the fabric’s fibers.

 

 

 

 

The drive from the Pembrooke is even quieter without Veronica's steady breathing next to him.

Archie gets home just before dawn. The loft walls are slowly painted with a pale blue tint as the sun comes up behind the thick November clouds. Carefully, slowly, Archie takes off his stupid spacemen costume, the one he still needs to pay Cheryl for; takes off the T-shirt and sweatpants he was wearing underneath, and proceeds to the bathroom, hoping that a hot shower will help to defrost his muscles and make some sense of his thoughts.

He ignores his reflection in the fogged up mirror. Under the hot water, Archie feels his scratched neck sting. He can't remember the exact moment Cheryl ran her nails down his skin so harshly that it bruised. He can't remember a lot from earlier in the night - but he hasn't forgotten it either, the rain thumping on the VW's top, so loud it could deafen him, the sweat beads running down his neck, her sweet voice in his ear - _that's it, Archie. You're such a big boy, Archie._

_You make me feel so special, Archie. No one has made me feel this way before._

There's a lump in his throat. He hasn't thought about Geraldine that way in such a long time. It's like their time together had never happened - but now it's coming back with the hot water, and his body is working against his mind, and his blood is working against the kink in his stomach.

He opens the hot faucet even more to see if the rise of temperature can help with the sickness, and the water burns his shoulders, burns his back. He welcomes the pain and the heat but he's still shivering like he's outside in that freezing lake shore. Archie thinks of Cheryl in her red outfit, the cold weight of her red hair under his hands, the sweetness of her red lips, but it's still Geraldine on top of him, ordering him to touch her, thanking him for being _such a nice boy,_ sucking on his neck, leaving it bruised.

Archie's half hard, and his skin is burning. His stomach is sick. His mind is hazy, as hazy as the lights passing by under the drizzle as he drove back from Glencoe, Veronica by his side being the only thing keeping him steady and going, her body shuddering and shrunken in his sweatshirt.

There's a moment of clarity when his mind comes around to her, and he feels even more nauseous, embarrassed of himself, turning off the water so fast and grabbing a towel so he won't drench the whole bathroom as he runs to the toilet, throwing up everything left in his stomach.

It's only bile and acid sugar and his insides clench, hurting. At least it turns him off, the pain, the drowsiness. Archie feels lost and pathetic, wet and naked on the bathroom's floor, his skin covered in goosebumps and parts of his shoulders burning from the scalding water.

He does what Ms. Baker told him to do: breathe. _Inhale._ One, two, three, four – _hold_ – one, two, three, four. _Exhale._ He focuses on the way the thick, humid air comes into his lungs and goes out. He tries to clear his mind from any other thought.

Archie only moves when the mirror starts to clean, and his body is drying up alone. He sniffs, getting up slowly, pressing the flush, drying up the parts of the bathroom that were still soaked. He brushes his teeth to wash off the taste on the back of his tongue, and he avoids staring at himself while doing it. It's weird. He's not one hundred percent sure he'd recognize himself in the reflection.

Luckily, his mom and Jeffrey are still asleep when he walks back to his bedroom, head heavy on the pillow, body crashing into the mattress. He pays attention only to the burning sensation in his neck and shoulders and drifts off to sleep.

 

 

 

 

Archie blacks out. He sleeps like a rock. Except it's a falling rock, rolling down a rough cliff, and as he tosses and turns under the covers, he keeps waiting for the moment he'll finally hit the ground, finally crash and split into a hundred pieces. Tiny, little pieces.

He doesn't.

He wakes up startled when his mother walks into the room all of a sudden -- Archie is disoriented, unsure of where he is, half expecting to face the teal blue walls from his bedroom in Riverdale. Instead, it's only the clear white ceiling and his mother's red hair.

“I can't believe you were so irresponsible. Really. Jeffrey is never lending the truck to you again. I swear to God that–”

Archie sits on the bed, feeling even more beat up than when he got into it a few hours ago. Whatever his mom is saying – _yelling_ – doesn't make any sense. He runs a hand through his hair, his brain picking pieces and conjuring phrases like _“I didn't drink”_ and _“I swear”._ It takes Mary a whole minute to maybe start to believe him.

“Then why did you throw-up?” She asks, her hands resting on her hips. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you.”

“I don't feel good,” he says. Mary makes a concerned face and comes closer, resting one hand in his forehead, touching him tenderly. Her touch makes him wince slightly.

“You don't have a fever,” she sighs. “You're probably stressed out. The SATs and all the pressure. Stay in bed this morning, okay? Jeffrey and I are going for a walk in the park. We'll bring you lunch.”

She leaves, but she might as well have never been there. Archie feels cold, sick, weird. He lies down again, curling up under the covers, reaching out for his phone to check the hour. It's barely nine o'clock.  There are some texts in their group chats, and one from Jason that came through not fifteen minutes ago.

**_hey. is cheryl with u?_ **

He takes in a deep breath. Did that mean that Cheryl didn't go back to her place after what happened? Finding strength out of nowhere, Archie writes back the truth, **_no_** , and prays to God that everything is okay with her.

 _You're the only thing that keeps me alive, Archie,_ Geraldine used to whisper in his ear, her tongue against his skin. _Without you, I'll be dead, you know? Dead and cold. You can never leave me._

Archie feels his mouth water with salty saliva, a sign that he could throw up again at any moment. Taking more deep breaths, he tries to block it, Geraldine's voice, Cheryl's kiss, but it keeps coming back to him.

He calls her before he even realizes it's Sunday morning and she's not on duty.

“Ms. Baker,” he says, trembling hands holding the phone against his ear. “It's Archie Andrews. You said to call if something was wrong and... Something is wrong.”

 

 

 

 

Repetitive, soft knocks on her door are what get her out of a deep, undisturbed slumber. Veronica’s mouth is dry, and her throat is aching. It takes her a few seconds to realize what’s going on, where the sound is coming from.

It’s probably not her parents since they have the horrible habit of knocking only once before coming in. It must be the new maid – Hermione had recently decided they needed someone to help maintain their already tidy house, to make it look like no one has ever lived there, probably, and that’s how Consuelo, a middle-aged lady who just recently crossed the Mexican border hoping for a better life, came to existence. How lucky was she to find a family with her same origins? In an electoral year?

Sitting slowly on the bed, Veronica rubs the back of her neck with one hand. “Yes?”

“Miss Veronica, hay un chico pelirrojo aquí para verla. Dice que es tu amigo.”

A redheaded boy? _Fuck_ , Veronica thinks, really waking up now. What the hell is Archie doing here so early? Jumping out of bed, she runs to her vanity to check herself in the mirror – she looks like complete shit, smudged makeup all over her face; her hair is one big mess, and she’s still wearing his sweatshirt over – well, over practically nothing, since she took the skirt off. There are fake blood stains all over the duvet and all over his sweatshirt, it looks like a period gone wrong.

“Pídele que espere un minuto,” Veronica says, looking for something on her vanity table that could help her not look absolutely disgusting in front of Archie. She reaches for a makeup removal wipe, but only goes so far as taking off the eyeliner smeared under her eyes, when there’s another knock on the door, this time a little stronger.

“C’mon, V. If you’re trying to hide Cheryl, it’s useless.”

 _Oh_. It’s just Jason.

Veronica feels something between relief and disappointment. She also feels a little stupid – _why_ on earth would Archie be here, anyways? She just finishes taking off the makeup from her eyes before opening the door, not really caring about the way she looks anymore. “Cheryl’s not here,” she says, squinting her eyes at the daylight that seeps in when she opens the door.

Jason is the opposite of her, wearing nice, clean clothes and smelling good. He chuckles when he sees her. “Is it _The Walking Dead_ now?”

“Shut up,” Veronica says, giving him space to enter her bedroom. Consuelo is definitely telling that to her parents when they come back from wherever they are, but Veronica is past caring, at this point.

“I came to pick Polly up for lunch, and I thought I’d check if Cheryl was with you.” Jason walks in, hands in his pocket. He looks around curiously, as if he had never been to Veronica’s bedroom before. Now that she’s thinking about it, maybe he hasn’t – only when they were very little. She cracks a window open. “I sent you a text and all.”

Veronica sits back on her bed, feeling defeated. Everything that happened last night _happened_ , and she just wants to sleep until someone wakes her up and tells her it was only a nightmare. “I didn’t check my phone,” she sighs, reaching for it somewhere under the duvet. Besides Jason’s text, there’s only a heart and a sunshine emoji from Betty, and something from Jughead she’ll read later. “Cheryl hasn’t sent me anything.”

Jason groans, sitting on the bed beside her. He takes his own phone out of his pocket. “Was she still at the party when you left?”

Veronica bites on her lower lip. “No, I think she left earlier. Should I be worried?”

“I don’t know.” Jason takes a deep breath. “We got into a fight yesterday. I was just – I just really wished she’d stop trying so hard all the fucking time, you know?” he says, but it’s like he’s talking more to himself than to her. Veronica wonders what he means, but he goes on before she can ask. “I thought she might be with Archie, but…” He tilts his head, pointing at Veronica’s sweatshirt with his chin, a little suggestive. Veronica frowns, looking down. _Of course,_ Archie’s mom or someone had his initials embroidered right under the collar.

“Oh, _no_ ,” she says, making a face. She tugs at the sweatshirt’s hem, pulling it down a little to cover more of her legs. “He took me home and I borrowed this but – it’s not what it looks like.”

Jason lifts an eyebrow, a little skeptical. Veronica sighs again, running a hand through her mess of hair.

“I made a mistake yesterday, but it wasn’t Archie,” she confesses, right in the middle of exhaling the air in her lungs. She was hoping that maybe never talking about it would make it go away, but that’s not how things work. “Reggie.”

Jason knits his eyebrows together. “Shit, V.”

“I know,” she says. “There’s no excuse. It shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have _let_ it happen. It’s just that–”

Jason’s phone buzzes repeatedly, interrupting Veronica. Maybe it’s for the best, because she’s still not really sure what she would’ve said about it. The guilt, however, stirs in her stomach, just as she notices notifications with Cheryl’s name blinking on Jason’s screen.

“Cheryl’s home,” Jason says, and he sounds a little relieved. “I’m gonna get Polly.” He clenches his jaw a little.

Of course, he’d be mad at her. It’s his best friend they’re talking about, and she knows there’s no chance on Earth Jason will ever take her side on this, _which he shouldn't._ But maybe if she explains…

“Can you talk to him?” Veronica asks when Jason gets up. “Tell him that – I don’t know, that I’m sorry.”

Jason stops at her door, and he turns around, running his hands through his red hair. “Listen. If you decided it’s over between you two, it’s over. But you need to own it, alright? You talk to him. You let him know that you’re sorry.”

 

 

 

 

The city’s white noise is distracting, and Archie waits outside the coffeeshop, wishing he was a smoker just to have something to do with his hands besides fidgeting with his phone. He hasn’t eaten yet, and his stomach is constricting in that weird sensation between nausea and hungry. His mother doesn’t know he’s here, but he did send her a text she hasn’t responded to yet.

Ms. Baker arrives just a couple of minutes before she said she would. Seeing her familiar face and her colorful jacket amongst all the grey concrete is a sight for sore eyes. She gives him an easy smile when she spots him, but Archie can’t really give it back.

“Hey, you look like you’re freezing, sweetie,” she says, motherly, rubbing his arm. It’s true. Archie think he’s been feeling cold ever since he got home in the morning. “Come in, let’s get you something warm to drink.”

Archie follows her. Ms. Baker has always had such a positive presence and being around her makes him feel a little bit safer than being alone. She orders two lattes – _decaf_ , she adds – and buys a small chocolate bar.

It’s considerably warmer inside the coffee shop, but Archie is still shuddering somehow. She pays for the drinks, carries them to a free table, and adds a spoon of sugar to the milk, stirring it very gently, the same way she does everything.

“You should eat the chocolate,” she says, handing him the candy bar she just bought, smart eyes on him when he makes a face that probably shows he’s scared to throw up again. “It’s serotonin. Whatever feels bad, will feel better. It’s pure chemistry.”

Archie nods, trying to rip the package. His hands _feel_ shaky, but they’re not. They’re steady, normal. “I’m sorry to call you on a Sunday morning,” he manages to say, eyes focused on what he’s trying to do. “It’s just – I don’t even know if that’s appropriate.”

Ms. Baker smiles softly, but her eyes are concerned. “Why do you say that?”

Archie gets the candy bar open, and chuckles. “I don’t know. My mom would probably flip if she knew I was seeing you outside your office.”

“Your mom will know you’re seeing me today,” Ms. Baker says, and her voice is firm, but not any less gentle. “But I’m guessing you’re saying that because she would remember the relationship you had with your teacher.” Archie nods. “Well, you’re not pursuing a relationship with me. And if I have to guess again,” she takes a sip of her latte, “you weren’t pursuing a relationship with your teacher, either. Am I wrong?”

Archie was considering eating the chocolate – _serotonin_ is something his mind can understand – but his stomach is disagreeing with his mind right now. “You’re not,” he says, breaking a piece of the chocolate bar. “In a million years, I didn’t think – Geraldine, she was… I mean, she was older, and so... All the guys in school kept calling her the hot teacher. I thought she was amazing too, but I never thought she’d look at me.”

“And you connected through music, you said.”

He thought that was it. He’s been telling himself that ever since it happened – it was the music, the way she made him feel that got him writing, that got him composing. Archie remembers it as if it’d happened yesterday, those weeks in July when the temperatures were so high he could barely sleep, working at his dad’s construction site while thinking about her, her legs around his waist, the things she whispered in his ear all the time, the lyrics forming themselves on his fingertips.

But did they _connect_? He didn’t know anything about her. He didn’t know the name of her perfume or her favorite color, he didn’t know when her birthday was or how it was to hold her hand in public. A month into the affair he’d learn about the husband when he noticed a ring on her hand that he hadn’t seen before – _he was gone, and now he’s back_ was the only explanation she gave him.

 _I can’t leave him. He’ll kill me,_ she used to say when he demanded exclusivity, demanded any kind of promise. _You can’t leave me. I’ll kill myself,_ is what she’d say when Archie decided he’d had enough, every once in a while.

“I was fifteen,” Archie answers, abandoning the little chocolate piece. He could never be vocal about his relationship with Geraldine, not even to Ms. Baker, he could never explain the depth of it, because he didn’t understand it fully. “I don’t know. I don’t know how it happened. All I know is that… It was all I could do. She was all I could breathe. She used to tell me she’d die if I left her, and at one point, I started to think that I’d die if she left me.”

“Do you think that she left you?”

“Sometimes I think I left her,” Archie says, holding his latte mug just to warm up his hands a little. “I mean, I obviously left, and she obviously didn’t die. I thought she’d come after me, you know. I thought she’d be here. And she didn’t, so I tried to let her go. I’ve been trying, but ever since yesterday I can’t stop – I’m thinking about her, and I don’t want to. She _did_ leave me.”

“And you didn’t die either,” Ms. Baker says, with a small smile on her lips. “You know, I’ve learned in this life that sometimes, in order to fully let go of things, and people, we first need to fully embrace them. Let it sink in, Archie, all of it. The moment you do that, is going to be the moment you finally let go.”

 

 

 

 

Monday comes as grey and rainy as Sunday had left. Comparing it to the first post-dance Monday, this one has been quiet and uneventful – there’s no whisperings of her and _the new guy_ in a closet. No one has pinned a picture calling her a slut in the accomplishment board. Veronica doesn’t feel the need to rely on bold makeup, this time. She’s even bare-faced, hair up in a sleek ponytail like the ones Betty wears, no barriers between her skin and the world.

Archie’s sweatshirt is clean and folded carefully inside a plastic bag, but she doesn’t see him in the hallways first thing, like she’s used to, now. Veronica keeps it in her backpack, in case they bump into each other during the day. She does see Reggie, though, wearing a baseball hat backwards, like he used to do when they were first started dating. She’s been gathering the courage to talk to him ever since Jason left her room yesterday, but he has dark circles under his eyes. He’s smiling with his teammates, but none of his smiles seem true.

So, Veronica does what she did for a great portion of this year – ignores Reggie. She ignores him in the hallway, ignores him during calculus, and feels worse and worse for doing so. But when she realizes it’s already lunchtime, she realizes there are only a couple more hours until she needs to stop pretending she’ll be brave enough.

When she joins Betty and Kevin at their table, she notices Archie’s absence from his usual spot. She doesn’t even need to ask where he is – apparently, Betty has a thing or two to say about it, and Kevin doesn’t look all that pleased with all the rambling.

“Don’t even get me started on that, Kev,” Betty does start, peeling an orange a little angrier than normal people do. “I can’t _believe_ how irresponsible he is. Missing class _and_ tutoring the week of his SATs.”

“What is going on?”

“Archie’s not feeling well, has missed class, and Betty can’t shut up,” Kevin informs her when he sees Veronica sitting down in front of them, both hands pressing on his temples. Veronica looks at Betty, eyebrows raised.

“ _Not feeling well_ ,” Betty repeats, ironically, doing two quote marks with her fingers.

“So, he got super hungover from Saturday, _so what_?” Kevin tiredly runs a hand through his hair. “It’s only one day. You've been studying with him for the last two months. Where has Jughead been? You’re too uptight.”

“Studying for _his_ SATs like any other sane person would be,” Betty says, as if she’s proving a point. “But whatever, it’s not _my_ future that’s being jeopardized.”

“Oh, my God, Betty, cut it out,” Veronica says. Both Kevin and Betty look at her a little startled. “If Archie is not feeling well, then he’s not feeling well.”

“Exactly,” Kevin adds, sighing. Betty lifts both her hands, signalizing she’s giving up a fight. “I can think about a reason or two why Archie would drink himself to death on Saturday…”

 _He wasn’t drunk_ , Veronica wants to say, to defend him, but her friends don’t seem to know anything about it. So she keeps it to herself. Maybe whatever happened between him and Cheryl was really bad? All those theories about Cheryl _using_ him come back to her mind. He did look pretty sad, as sad as she was. And she was so focused on her own problems that she didn’t even– she really was a terrible friend.

She’s taking a sip of her juice when she sees Reggie leaving the cafeteria. Veronica takes a deep breath, hoping the courage would come with the oxygen to her lungs, and gets up as she exhales. “I’ll be right back,” she says, focusing on Reggie’s trace.

He’s by his locker when she reaches him. The hallway is almost empty, since everybody is still at the cafeteria. Veronica watches Reggie putting his books away and getting his gym bag for a whole minute, before swallowing hard and marching up to him. The cackling of her heels gives her away and she gets to see his expression change once he sees she’s coming closer.

“Hey,” Veronica says, adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder, her voice firmer than she expected it would be. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

“Sure.” He says. She sees his jaw clenching when he looks away, taking off his cap and running a hand through his thick hair. Veronica remembers how often she’d be offended by how his hair never looked bad or really messy, not even when he wore hats the whole day. She wants to smile at the memory, but it’s just sour, now. “Be quick, though. Coach Clayton wants to talk to me before practice.”

“Okay,” she takes another deep breath. He’s still not looking at her, but she decides to talk anyway, before she loses her nerve. “I’m so sorry, Reg. What happened on Saturday… It shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.”

His mouth makes a shape, lips curled downwards, as he nods, closing his locker with a sharp sound. “Okay,” is what he says after a long moment.

Veronica doesn’t understand why it frustrates her, the simplicity of it, but it does. “Reggie, c’mon–”

“What, Veronica?” He finally turns his face towards her. “You apologized. I said it’s okay, so what else do you want from me?”

He looks so tired. Veronica doesn’t know what to do with it, with the hurt. She remembers his expression when they’d broken up last spring, but it wasn’t– This is _worse_. This is not only his honest face. It’s just a blank face, completely hopeless, nothing but tiredness. “I wanted to explain,” she says, finally. She’s been dodging that explanation for months now, and she’s ready to give him it, everything about her parents, everything that maybe will _justify_ the fact that she doesn’t love him.

But he only shakes his head. “There’s nothing left to say here, Veronica. You should’ve explained it to me when it mattered, months ago. Now, it’s just–” He breathes in. “I was stupid for thinking that we’d ever get another chance.”

“No, _no_ , you weren’t! I didn’t mean to lead you on, and then I _kissed_ you. I shouldn’t have. I’m–”

“It’s Andrews, I know.” he says, suddenly, interrupting her. It makes her frown. _What_? Her heart rate picks up a little, wondering what Archie has to do with all of this. “I know you left with him again, so if he’s the one you want–”

“It’s not like that,” she says, holding on to the strap of her bag like it would help her not fall to the ground. Her voice sounds different than she remembers, though, softer. Maybe she didn’t say anything at all.

“Sure, Veronica,” Reggie says under his breath. She hears him swallowing down. “Listen, it’ll be alright. Just give me some space, okay? You’re good at that.”

Veronica closes her eyes slowly, feeling it all weight down on her shoulders. There’s nothing else she can do now, except give Reggie what he asked for.

He walks right past her.

 

 

 

 

Archie spent a whole week without sleeping after being with Geraldine for the first time. It was… he doesn't know what it was. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, his body hot and weary. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways it was wrong. He felt guilty for being tired, guilty for not helping his dad enough, but when the evening came, all Archie could do was think about what had happened, how it’d happened, if it’d ever happen again.

The lyrics came to him in the middle of those restless nights, _underwater, time is standing still, you’re all I need to breathe, all I need is you_. Writing those down, finding chords to match the lyrics – it was the only thing that kept him sane until they met again for another guitar lesson, the following week.

It was just how he felt all the time, still under the pouring rain, trapped with her in that small car. She could be stealing the oxygen out of his lungs, but he wouldn’t mind.

Jeffrey doesn’t ask questions on Monday morning when Archie says he’s still not feeling well, even after being smushed under his covers for the entirety of Sunday. His stepdad just says something like _sleep it out, buddy_ , and it’s what Archie pretends to do after putting together a half-assed explanation for his absence and sending it to Kevin.

He’s only on his feet again when it’s way past one in the afternoon and his stomach lurches. Jeffrey pretends not to watch him when he gets out his bedroom and enters the living room and keeps pretending as he heats up some Chinese food they’d ordered the night before, eating it silently.

“Jeff,” he says, swallowing the chicken down – it tastes like absolutely nothing. Jeffrey immediately turns to him, as if he was just waiting to be summoned somehow. “Will you drive me to therapy?”

 

 

 

 

Archie only goes because he’s promised Ms. Baker he would, and because he’s tired of feeling like shit. His body has been hurting ever since Saturday night, but maybe it has been like this ever since Geraldine’s husband beat the shit out of him on the fourth of July.

There’s a shaking in his heart that’s traveling all over his body, like he is still feeling cold. The rain is light on Ms. Baker’s office windows, and she studies his face wearing a bothered expression. He hasn’t touched the tea she brewed him. He hasn’t laid down on the couch like he’s used to doing by now.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” she says, sipping from her own mug.

He doesn’t, not really. He just wants this to be over – will this _ever_ be over? That’s his only question.

But there’s another one buried in the depth of his guts, something he’s been asking himself every day for months now, something he asks himself every time his dad calls, or his mom looks at him, or Jeffrey gives him a condescending smile. It’s what he’s been asking himself ever since Cheryl left him in that random room.

“Am I broken?”

She knits her dark eyebrows together. “Do you think you are?”

Archie bites on his lower lip, a little angry. Ms. Baker has always answered a lot of his questions with another question – he _knows_ that it’s just how therapists roll, but only this once, he wants her to give him a real answer.

“I think I am.” He grinds his teeth. It’s weird, to hear those words that were always on his brain coming out of his mouth.

“And why do you say that?”

Because his hands feel shaky when they’re actually steady. Because the last time he felt _warmth_ emanating from his body was when he held Veronica, and that couldn’t be right, because she was freezing herself. Because he hasn’t slept even though he spent all that time lying down. It can’t be normal – to feel like this. Why is he even feeling like this? What happened?

Why did it start when Cheryl pressed her mouth against his? He can taste the sweetness of her lipstick if he thinks back, but he remembers not feeling it when she kissed him. He remembers not feeling anything and everything all at once, at the same time. He wishes he could quiet his head. He wishes he was brave enough to text Jason and ask if he’s found his sister, who was last seen running from a room because he couldn’t give her anything.

And still, as much as he wants to think about Cheryl – or about anything or anyone else – it’s only Geraldine creeping through his brain.

“Saturday night,” he starts, watching his hands fold together, "I had the opportunity to be with a really, really beautiful and nice girl, and I just– I couldn’t. I– the whole time, I was trying to want it, and I–”

“And you couldn’t force yourself into wanting it,” Ms. Baker concludes.

“It’s not always like that,” Archie says. Somewhere inside him there’s still just a _boy –_ a boy whose face is getting warm for even talking about it with someone else. “My body _–_ works, it’s not that. It’s just– _my head_. It was like it didn’t belong to me. And the last time I’d been close to someone, I didn’t–” He’s thinking about Veronica’s dark eyes in that closet, about her body against his in her room before things went to shit. He swallows hard. “Well, it was different.”

She doesn’t seem to mind his confused confession. Instead, she keeps watching him intently, her forehead slightly creased. “I don’t think you’re broken, Archie. I think you had a triggering experience on Saturday. It didn’t happen the first time, but it happened now. We don’t have a warning of when it will happen. It just does.”

Archie frowns, glancing up at her.

“A _triggering experience_?”

“It’s a negative emotional response. Everything you told me you were feeling yesterday – it’s all a part of this response. It doesn’t matter if the girl was amazing. You experience something similar to another situation, and–”

“It wasn’t _similar_ ,” he says. He’ll argue that. “Cheryl, she would never do anything to hurt me. She’s my friend, and I trust her. I really like her. It’s different.”

“Okay,” she says, very patiently. “You’re telling me that you don’t feel the same way about Geraldine, then? You don’t think she could be trusted not to hurt you?”

“It doesn’t even matter.” He clenches his jaw again. “What happened with Cheryl was nothing like this, and I still–”

“Archie, do you remember one of the first things I ever told you when we first met?” she asks, a serious expression on her face. “About wanting things?”

“Yeah,” he says. Ms. Baker keeps looking at him, waiting for him to give a complete answer. “You said that wanting was a natural, human thing.”

“Yes. And so is _not_ wanting. Sweetie, it’s not this girl’s fault or your fault that this happened, but you didn’t want to be with her. You told me that before you were actually able to block some memories of your first relationship out, and that now you can’t anymore?” He nods. “That’s because your brain tried to shut those memories down, so they wouldn’t hurt you. It sounds to me like what happened on Saturday made your brain access those memories again. And the cold, the stomach ache, the insomnia, everything is just your body trying to deal with all the pain that revisiting all this is causing you.”

She explains it in a way that’s so _technical_ , so _practical_ , like his insides weren’t being torn apart by every breath he took. He takes yet another one. “It can’t be that,” he says, carefully.

He expects her to heave out an annoyed breath, but she doesn’t. “Okay. But those memories _are_ coming back to you, right?” she asks. “What’s in them?”

Archie runs a hand through his hair. “Look, with Geraldine, things were so intense that I couldn’t– I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. When we were apart I was always just thinking about when I’d see her again. I didn’t get anything done. I’ve lost all of my friends because all I wanted to do was be with her. And she– she was married, and I was stupid. And–”

Archie’s hands are curling into fists now. He remembers, distantly, the time Betty did that, and her nails sunk into her palms. His throat is dry and aching, and he doesn’t think he can form a conclusion.

His eyes wander to Ms. Baker’s socked feet, little bright blue bows against a navy background. It’s all a little distracting _–_ how colorful they are on that rainy day, the ticking of the clock on the wall, the memory of how Betty’s cheeks were stained with blood once she removed her hands from her face.

“What is it that you’re trying to push away, Archie?” She asks, after he stays a long time without saying anything.

He can’t find the words to explain to her that he doesn’t really know what he thinks anymore, just that he feels sick. Maybe he’s just trying to push away everything that happened – but everything that happened is something he’s not even sure happened to _him_. Archie keeps quiet, fighting against the rise of bile in his throat.

“Let’s change that question,” Ms. Baker says, once she realizes he cannot find an answer to give her. “What is it that you feel when you’re not able to push those things away?”

“It’s like–” he finally says, after what feels like a whole eternity of silence, between a sharp breath. “Sometimes I feel like something was stolen from me, and I can’t find it again.”

“Stolen,” she repeats. “Okay. And what is this something, Archie?”

He’s still staring at his shaky hands as if they’ve got the answers to Ms. Baker’s questions. He remembers crying himself to sleep once he realized Geraldine was gone from his world forever, remembers how she always felt like a memory somehow, even after she dropped him at his house’s foyer that summer, just minutes after they were together in his car, the rain so loud.

Riverdale always had a characteristic smell after a thunderstorm – the pines in the Fox Forest, the wet pavement, the cinnamon rolls his neighbor, Mrs. Grimmet, baked every time the sky hinted it would crack.

But even that was taken away from him – the town and how it smelled in the rain, milkshakes at Pop’s with his friends, washing the car with his dad every fifteen days. No one warned it would be like this. No one told him that _nothing_ is what he would find after she was gone.

There’s a part of Archie that wants to argue, the same strangle of vein that got him writing lyrics. He wants to ask: _isn’t that’s how love is supposed to be? To find something that you’re not looking for?_

(She had so much power over him that his own will collapsed. Breathing was hard without her, and now that it was getting easier again–)

Right before he moved, in a desperate attempt to convince Fred that his feelings were real, he showed his father the songs he’d written about it, a bundle of words and chords trying to translate how it was to be drowning in love.

“My life,” he says, simply, finally, and his throat hurts like someone has a hand around it. His voice sounds strange to him too.

“Don’t you think that’s wrong, sweetie?” Ms. Baker asks, then, careful and sweet, her big brown eyes warming as they watch his face.

 _That’s not love, son,_ Fred answered him then, his forehead creased, his eyes bright with concern. _That’s not how love feels._

 

 

 

 

Veronica stays in the student lounge with a book and a bitter taste in her mouth, eyeing her phone lying on the coffee table every now and then, somehow hoping for it to blink and vibrate with a new notification from Archie. Despite herself, she’d sent him a text right after talking to Reggie, unable to shake his words from her mind.

(He wasn’t the one she _wanted_ , but still – her backpack was heavier due to his sweatshirt. She still remembers how he was the only warm and bright spot on that freezing Saturday night, and she was just _worried_. She just wanted to know if he was okay, if he needed something. Could she do anything for him?)

No one sends her any messages, though, and as much as she wants to focus on the story she’s reading, she can’t. She decides to head down to the gymnasium a little early, maybe have a shower before cheer practice – perhaps the hot water would help her release some of the tension on her shoulders.

The boys are still training, and the air is filled with the sound of the balls hitting the ground as they dribble throughout the court. Veronica can see Reggie again, and he’s drenched in sweat, looking very focused as he protects the ball from Moose, who’s trying to steal it. Her stomach stirs, but she raises her neck a little, exhales the air in her lungs as she looks away, and walks towards the girls’ locker room.

Veronica isn’t expecting to find any of the Vixens there yet, so she’s surprised when she sees that Cheryl is there, already changed into her shorts and tee, sitting on the central bench. She has her earphones on, and her eyes closed, hands around her phone in a light grip. Veronica bites on her lower lip – she hadn’t seen Cheryl just yet. And while she was maybe dreading the moment they’d meet, she’s so filled with warmth when she spots her – it’s just them in that locker room, and it’s been a while since it’s been just them.

“Hey,” she calls, not wanting to startle the redheaded girl. Cheryl opens her eyes, and there’s a hint of – Veronica doesn’t really know what. There’s a hint of surprise, and maybe some _shame_ gleaming in her pupils. But it might be just Veronica’s imagination, because it soon turns into a really soft smile.

“Hey.”

“Haven’t seen you since Saturday,” Veronica says, coming closer, setting her backpack down and sitting next to Cheryl on the bench. She wonders if she’ll tell Cheryl about what happened with Reggie – she did promise not to take her for granted and to never lie to her again, but– “You disappeared.”

“Yeah,” Cheryl says, quickly wetting her lips. Veronica notices she’s also not wearing too much makeup that Monday, and it makes her chest tighten a little. Have they always been so similar? “I needed to.”

“I get it.” Veronica smiles softly, and reaches out to move Cheryl’s hair from her face, smoothing down a curl. Her stomach stirs again when she sees the red strands against her fingers, and Veronica doesn’t think too much, just pulls Cheryl into a tight hug, pressing her face on her shoulder. Cheryl’s body stiffens a little, maybe with surprise, but she does hug her back, letting one hand rest on Veronica’s lower back.

Veronica feels her eyes well up. She needs it, the proximity, the familiarity of her best friend’s body and scent next to her.

“Are you okay?” Cheryl asks, after a whole minute of silence. Veronica sniffles against the cotton of her t-shirt.

“I’m fine,” she says, after a long pause, when she feels that her eyes are drying up again. Cheryl is the one that pulls away, her soft brows just slightly puckered together. There’s a lot she wanted to tell Cheryl, but she decides she still can’t – she doesn’t want anyone to judge her or worse, condemn her, just yet. She pastes a smile on her face to prove herself.

It makes Cheryl smile too, but it’s just for a second. It fades away too quickly.

“I’m so sorry I stole your date last Saturday.” Veronica bites the inside of her mouth. She doesn’t want to talk about this, but she needs to get used to it – and it’s better if she hears it from Veronica, and not from anyone else. “You weren’t there anymore, and I swear that Archie just gave me a ride because I was sad and he was… Well, he was being Archie.”

Cheryl looks slightly confused. “Why would I care if Archie gave you a ride?”

“Uh,” she starts. “Well, aren’t you guys together?”

“ _No_ ,” Cheryl answers very fast. It’s Veronica’s turn to knit her eyebrows together. “We just went to the dance together. We’re friends.”

_What?_

Veronica looks at the other girl with a bewildered expression. That’s not – _no._ She looked Veronica straight in the eye a couple of weeks ago and said she liked Archie. And Veronica knows that Archie liked her too, they were _always_ together. They _were_ together. She’s sat on Archie’s lap right in front of Veronica, during the dance, and kissed his head, and his hands were hanging around her waist, keeping her still.

 _No._ Something happened at that party, something Veronica doesn’t know, and that’s the reason for the abrupt change in Cheryl’s speech, and for Archie’s sad eyes.

All of Kevin’s initial theories about Cheryl using Archie suddenly come back to Veronica’s mind, and she tries very hard not to hold on to them, but–

_Fuck._

“Cheryl,” Veronica feels something in her throat, “you promised me you wouldn’t hurt him.”

“And I _didn’t_ ,” Cheryl says in a very secure voice. “Why would I?”

Veronica opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She’s sure she didn’t misinterpret any of the signs – she _knew_ Cheryl. She knew Cheryl was telling her the truth backstage at the Variety Show. There’s a part of her that’s a little _angry_ with how this whole situation is out of her reach. She can’t accuse Cheryl without actually knowing what happened. She can’t _ask_ her at the risk of being too inquisitive and ending up caught in another catfight that she can’t endure, and she definitely cannot ask Archie.

“I’m glad he helped you, though,” the redhead girl says, with such a tender voice that she almost sounds sad, quickly looking at her feet before glancing up at Veronica, who bites down on her lower lip. Whatever is happening between them, it’s just between them. It’s just another thing that’s out of her control, much like Reggie’s feelings.

 

 

 

 

Archie doesn’t really realize it, but he’s tearing the skin off his middle finger with his thumb nail, picking at it, trying to rip it off. His hands are the only part of his body moving, ever so slightly. It hurts, but not too much – like the scalding water on his shoulders when he took a shower the day before, it’s just a way of distracting from the pit in his stomach.

He can hear things in the background, but the world is moving in slow motion. The sound is thick. He wanted to take the bus home, but Ms. Baker insisted – she _demanded_ – that he stay in her office until his mother came to pick him up.

(It’s the irony of it all: he’s a minor. He needs to do what the adults tell him. None of his choices were ever his. _Ever._ )

She’s here, though, he knows. His mom. She’s outside the door because Ms. Baker’s secretary called and now he can hear them, through the door, through the ticking clock, through the silence on his mind.

“It’s going to be a couple of hard days for him. He should stay at home for as long as he feels like, but I want to see him on Wednesday, okay?”

“He has his SATs this weekend. Fred and I are _worried_ about his future, Thea. How did this happen? How could this happen _this week_?”

“It just did, Mary. It’s how his mind is working right now. You need to focus – it’s not going to be easy, but this is what we wanted, right? We wanted him to realize the abuse, and that’s happening.”

There’s a sharp noise, like a breath, a _whimper_ , and he knows his mother might be crying, or maybe she’s just exasperated. He picks on his finger more furiously, carelessly clipped nail digging deep into his callous skin.

“The important thing is that he’s safe, Mary. I’m going to give you a couple of minutes, and I’m going to go get him, okay? How does that sound?”

The door opens. Ms. Baker crouches in front of him, her hand leaning gently on his hands, probably realizing what his fingers were trying to do. “Sweetie, I’ll see you soon, okay? If you need anything, you know you can call me.”

Archie nods. There’s not much he can do. He feels his mother’s scent even before he sees her walking in. “Hey, baby. Ready to go home?” she asks, and she sounds like she used to _before_ , when he was just a scrawny thirteen-year-old and she’d take him to the airport after a long summer, asking him if he was ready to go back to Riverdale, airplane engines scratching the air around them.

Archie gets up, and his mom puts an arm around his torso, leading him to the exit. He glances at Ms. Baker and allows himself to be steered, feeling the heat radiating from his mother’s body at his side. She says a couple of things as they get in the elevator and head down to the parking lot, something about pizza and movie night, but Archie doesn’t pay attention. Everything is distracting, from the movement of that metal box going down with them to the way the air seems to thin as they breathe sharing the same space.

It’s like he’s managed to tear his skin off, seeing his mom after his latest conclusion. They were right all along, his parents, and he didn’t listen. He threw a tantrum. He _hated_ them – for what? His dad was now coming back to an empty house every day, and his mother had to deal with a stranger in her own house, with the life she built with Jeffrey, who _also_ had to go out of his way because Archie existed. Because Archie couldn’t see _it_.

His mom’s life was stolen from her too, Archie thinks, as he follows her down to the parking lot until they reach Jeffrey’s truck. She didn’t sign up for this. Archie had no right. He had no right.

“Archie?” she calls from the other side of the truck, when she realizes he’s not opening the car door to come inside. She must catch some look on his face, because she creases her eyebrows, walking up to him. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” it’s barely audible. Mary’s lips part slightly. “I’m so sorry, mom.”

“Oh, _no_ ,” her brown eyes are suddenly bright, and she pulls him closer to her, holding his head against the crook of her neck. “No, no, baby, this wasn’t your fault. None of this, _nothing_.”

Archie can’t help – he _cracks_. He sobs, and there are tears coming from his eyes as he dives his nose into his mom’s red hair, the exact same color as his. She holds him so tight she could suffocate him, but he holds her back with the same strength.

“It’s okay, Archie,” she says, soothing, with the same voice she used during his sleepless little boy’s nights, warm and reassuring. “I’m here, baby. Mom’s not leaving you again. Mom’s never leaving you again.”

He isn't sure when he stops crying.

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! long time no see. i've been working like crazy and i got really sick, but i've managed to write this really, really difficult chapter, and i know this might be the point where some of you will jump ship and just give up on the story, but anyway.
> 
> when i started writing lake michigan, i mostly did it because i wanted to tell a different story from riverdale - i've been saying that this story is about archie and veronica as individuals, and the most important part of the story, for me, has always been dealing with archie's trauma from what happened between him and grundy in a real, serious, deep way. what happened between them was rape. lord knows how hard it's been to write this chapter - i am not a therapist, even though i did ask a real one what to do, and also read a lot about how being raped affected male victims. anyway, it's done - we've reached this important arc, this important point, and archie is now on his way to recovery, which is so important. so important.
> 
> i know some of you will kind of be... mad about the lack of archieronnie in this chapter. i get it. but it's just necessary. also, how could archie just fall in bed with someone after going through this? i needed to address this. and now i have. i am super nervous to post this chapter, but i do hope you like it and understand the importance of it all to the fic. it should have happened in the show.
> 
> anyway, i'll do my very best to bring the next - happier - update as soon as possible and i hope you're still with me. thank you so much for the continuous love and support. and remember, if any of you experience any of this, get help. find someone you can trust and talk to them.
> 
> thank you so much for my beta nicole who has been patient as fuck with me on this chapter, and thank you for naomi who also helped me through it. it's been really hard to write but now it's ready (:
> 
> song at the beggining is the national's "runaway". the snippet of archie's lyrics come from "10.000 emerald pools" by borns.


	20. Chapter 20

_i don't need a light to see your face in this dark of mine_

 

 

 

When he leaves his room on Tuesday morning, he expects it to look exactly like it did every other day: the television turned to some sports channel, the smell of coffee and bacon hanging in the air, Jeffrey throwing him a _morning buddy_ like he always does. He wants it to be the same – even though it’s not. Even though the Earth cracked beneath him last night, and he was swallowed by its burning core.

He just needs to pick it up, he thinks. He just needs to start again.

But when he sets his feet outside the door, the only familiarity is the smell – the TV is off, the soundtrack of the morning is just the traffic in the streets and the rain. His mother is carrying a plate of croissants to a breakfast table she’s improvised in the middle of the living room, having cleaned the coffee table of its usual clutter (bills, keys, the occasional beer bottle, and law magazines).

“Mary,” Jeffrey calls when he spots him, standing there with a confused frown on his face. “Hey, bud–”

His mother, who has just set the plate down, is not dressed for work. She’s wearing the cashmere loungewear she normally puts on every Saturday afternoon after she and Jeffrey come back from their weekly errand-running, and there are dark circles under her eyes. She still smiles brightly when she sees him, but it’s– “Sweetheart!”

There it is. That _voice_ again.

Archie clenches his jaw. “What’s going on?” he asks, looking at all the food on the improvised breakfast table.

Jeffrey and his mom exchange glances, and he can sense her taking a deep breath to keep the smile on her face. “Well, I thought we all could have breakfast together today.” She points at the coffee table.

“Mom, what the f–” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, schooling his voice into a flatter tune. “You need to go to work. It’s almost eight.”

“Oh, nonsense, baby,” Mary says, kneeling on the carpet, grabbing her _World’s Best Wife_ mug and pouring some coffee in it. “I took the day off to be here with you. There’s nothing more important to me than–”

Whatever she’s going to say is interrupted by her cell phone ringing. Mary sets down her mug, taking a quick glance at who’s calling her, and Archie can see her clenching her jaw. It makes his stomach stir _again_. “Take the call, mom,” he says, tired, noticing the struggle play out on her face.

She presses a button on the side of her phone and shakes her head. “I’ll just call them back,” she says, pasting another smile on her lips. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Archie takes a long, deep breath. _Great_ , he thinks. It’s not even half a day into his new _reality_ , and he’s already fucking up his mom’s life even more. The law firm has always been the most important thing to her. Archie feels that he’s already taken so much from his mom – her peace of mind, her sanity, her space – and he can’t _allow_ her to lose that too.

(And he doesn’t want things to _change_. If he has to go through this, he wants to go through this as ordinarily as he can, which doesn’t include them having breakfast on a Tuesday morning as a picture-perfect family or his mom staying home just because Archie’s body and mind is– it is–)

His stomach is twisting, but he’s not hungry. He couldn’t be less hungry – he’s _angry_. It’s funny how it feels the same inside of him: a twist of his insides, something that needs to be soothed and filled, something that bothers endlessly, an increasing, burning sensation. Archie clenches his jaw so hard it hurts, hoping his locked teeth will stop him from saying something that will just hurt Mary again.

“Fuck this,” he blurts out, coming back to his white, stupid room, slamming the door so hard its walls tremble a little. He throws himself on his bed, his back flat against the mattress, and hopes the duvet swallows him whole until he disappears.

“I –” his mom’s soft, stifled voice comes through the thin walls. “I don’t know what to do,” he hears she confessing to Jeffrey, and Archie feels his eyes prickle with tears. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his stepfather says, comforting and gentle as usual. “Remember what Thea said? We should let him decide.” There’s a small moment when all Archie can hear is silence, the traffic in the streets, footsteps in the upper floor. “You should just go to the office – I’ve got him. He’ll be alright.

 

 

 

 

**_are you alright?_ **

Veronica stares at the text message for a long time, hovering her fingers around the keyboard, wondering if she should try again. Archie did read the message she sent him yesterday, but hasn’t replied – he didn’t say anything in their group chat either, and Veronica can’t stop thinking about the last time she saw him, how he told her to take care in a soft voice, giving her the smallest of smiles, before driving away into the dawn.

**_fair warning: betty will murder you if you miss school again, lol._ **

Veronica types a new message and reads it repeatedly. She deletes the laugh in the end, adds it again, chewing her lip anxiously, and then decides she’s not sending anything since he didn’t answer the first one. Maybe he just wants to be left the hell alone. Maybe missing school twice in his SATs week _is_ a way of running away from his responsibilities – who knows?

But still–

Determined about letting it go, but not quite, Veronica just sends him her typical purple heart emoji, just to show support. Hoping it will remind him that she’s worried, and that she’s thinking about him, and that he could talk to her – they’re friends, he can count on her.

She switches to her chat with Jughead, sends him a quick **_on my way_ ** before throwing her phone in her purse and leaving her room. Both of her parents are home this late Tuesday afternoon, which is just _odd_ – she’s not at all used to see them sitting in the living room while the sun still hasn’t set. She’s also not used to giving any explanations about what she’s doing in the middle of the day, so when she feels both pairs of inquisitive eyes following her as she heads to the door, and her father stops her with a _mija?,_ Veronica catches herself almost rolling her eyes.

“I’m going to the library,” Veronica says, honestly, turning around to face her parents. “I have a paper to write, and I can’t concentrate here.”

“We were hoping to talk to you for a minute.” Her mother is the one saying that, as she sets down the magazine she was flicking through.

“The Lyft is waiting downstairs, so I really need to–”

“Cancel it.” Hiram shakes a hand. “Andre can drive you.”

“Daddy,” Veronica says with a huff of air. “I don’t need a limousine to go to a library.”

“There are five cars at his disposal. I think he’ll find one suitable for this ride.” Hiram smiles in that way of his – superior and trivial, the smile of a man who always gets what he wants, a smile Veronica has learned from a very young age how to reproduce. The smile he probably had on his face when he told FP Jones that he needed to remember who was keeping the Southside Serpents out of jail.

“Of course.” Veronica smiles another smile, the obedient little girl one, and gets her phone to cancel the Lyft. Her mind wanders to the fact that there still aren’t any new messages from Archie, but she soon commands herself to _focus_. “¿Qué deseas, Daddy?”

“Well, actually, mija,” Hermione is the one who answers, throwing her husband a glance, “We want to grant one of _your_ wishes. A while ago you talked to us about participating more in Lodge Industries’ affairs, and with your birthday just around the corner, your father and I decided it’s time you have more access.”

“If you still want it.”

Veronica’s eyes switch from her mom’s face to her dad’s – their brown eyes meet, and she’s suddenly a bit _scared_ about the meaning of it. She knows he’s trying to read her. He’s always trying to read her. She knows the smallest flutter of eyelashes will give away what’s going on inside her brain, so she holds his stare and curls her lips upwards in a disciplined smile.

“I’d like nothing more, Daddy.”

 

 

 

 

Jughead is sitting on the floor, in between shelves, chewing the end of a pencil while he stares at his notebook, probably thinking about the problem he’s trying to solve. He has his headphones on, and his head is slowly shaking to the rhythm of some song – he doesn’t hear the click-clack of her heels as she walks up to him, so she kicks the side of his thigh to get his attention.

“Hey,” he greets, looking up at her with a soft smile on his lips. It feels like a million years since they met in this same library, and he told her to fuck off. Veronica would never admit it, but she’s grown used to spending time alone with Jughead now. She even misses it when they go a day or two without speaking. “All the tables are taken,” he adds, answering her question before she even asks it.

“Oh, well,” Veronica sighs, and sinks down to the floor next to him, pulling the hem of her skirt down a little. Her father’s voice is still echoing in her brain, _you know how much family means to us_ , and _we’re counting on you not to let us down_. Since the car ride from The Pembrooke to the library, Veronica has been thinking about those words – what do they mean, were they a threat? Why _now_ ? Did her parents somehow found out about her ideas of finding out the exact nature of their business and cleaning their act up? Do they know she’s dragged Jughead into it? Or – did they trust her? _Why_ did they trust her? She wonders if she really should tell Jughead about her new _role_ in her family business. If that wouldn’t be dangerous. If she even _wanted_ him to know. “How’s stoichiometry?”

Jughead shrugs. “Boring.”

“You’ve probably learned it, then.” Veronica smiles a little, reaching for her phone in her purse. Still nothing from Archie – he hasn’t even seen her emoji yet. The smile fades on her lips, and she forgets about her parents and Jughead for a second. _Why_ is he _ignoring_ her?

 **_hey kev,_ ** she types quickly, paying more attention to the words on her screen than whatever Jughead is talking about next to her. **_has archie reached out?_ **

Again, she deletes the text before sending it, biting her lower lip, glancing at Jughead, who is definitely looking at her and not at his notebook. “Are you okay?” he asks, frowning.

Veronica rests her back against the bookshelf, taking a deep breath. She wonders which part is harder to explain. “My parents said I’m in,” she says, quietly, so they won’t draw any attention to themselves amongst the other people hoping to learn something from written, immortal words printed on paper. “The business. I don’t really know what that means, but– I guess things will finally move forward now.”

Jughead has parted his lips slightly, his surprised expression the same since they were ten. “Veronica, that’s _good_ , right? It’s good news.”

“Yeah,” she exhales slowly, wondering if she did just choose who has her loyalty. “It’s good,” she says, and tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Jughead definitely notices that she’s not as excited as he thought she’d be about finally getting her foot in the door, and she feels his pondering gaze trying to read her face. But the phone in her hand is not vibrating, she can’t stop thinking about it.

“I’m worried about Archie,” she blurts out, and it feels like the words were just blocking her throat – she couldn’t tell that to Kevin, who would pester her, or to Betty, who is about to start the _Archie Andrews Sucks_ club, or even to Cheryl, who is the very root of the problem – but there she was, telling Jughead Jones.

“He’s supposed to take the SATs this weekend too, but he disappeared. He already missed school twice. Kevin said he was super hungover, then that he had a stomach bug or something but– I saw him at Reggie’s party. He drove me home, and he wasn’t drunk.  He was _sad_.”

“Okay,” Jughead breathes. He closes his notebook, a little confused and maybe amused, just a _hint_ of a smile on the corner of his lips. “Do you want to talk?”

He asks purposely to tease her, probably. Veronica wishes she didn’t need to rely on Jughead Jones of all people, but she’s already gone too far down. “I think Cheryl dumped him on Saturday night. But I really thought she wanted to be with him, too, and now she’s saying all this stuff about how they’re only friends– And I know he’s in love with her, so…” She catches the look on his face, somewhere between shock and disgust. “ _What_?”

He shakes his head. “I’m just shocked someone actually loves Cheryl Blossom.” He doesn’t sound like he’s joking, not even when Veronica throws him a dangerous look. “ _What_?”

Veronica ignores him, because _she_ loves Cheryl Blossom, she has loved her since she’s learned what that was supposed to mean – something pure and patient, just wanting that person to be in their happiest, most peaceful place always. “The worst part is that I can’t even be mad at Cheryl,” she goes on, staring down at her phone in her hands. She’s already gone over all her theories about how Cheryl must’ve broken Archie’s heart just to get back at her – the past few days and the whole Reggie situation have taught her a thing or two about how love also _sucks_. Her throat keeps on aching. “But she’s the thing that made him happy to be in Chicago, and I’m just–”

“Jealous,” Jughead completes, so nonchalant – but still, he makes it sound so _obvious_.

“I’m not jealous. I’m worried,” she corrects him quickly. Jughead’s eyebrows move towards his beanie. “Archie is my friend.”  
  
“Sure. I’m always making out with my friends inside closets.”  
  
Veronica gasps a little. She’s going to kill Betty for telling him that. Jughead laughs a little through his nose, making a too-loud-for-a-library _ouch_ when she elbows his ribs stronger than she meant to. “You don’t have any friends,” Veronica whispers, lifting a sharp eyebrow to some people who were choosing books nearby and who are side-eyeing them. They immediately look away.  
  
Jughead rubs the sore spot where she elbowed him, more dramatically than needed. “Are you kidding? There were two Mustangs at my birthday party. I’m the pinnacle of popularity.”  
  
She feels it bubble inside her, despite herself – the laughter. Veronica snorts, laughing as quietly as she can, and ends up elbowing him again, because this time no withering glare is going to intimidate the other library users. Jughead opens his notebook again, smiling but not looking at her. She’d never admit it, but she feels thankful for him, in that moment – thankful that he exists, that they’re going to face this mess their parents created together.

 

 

 

 

Archie didn’t expect to be so used to this – the sports channel playing on the television, his occasional phone-calls, the typing away on his laptop – but it seems that being left alone with Jeffrey in that bright loft has been his sense of normalcy ever since he moved to Chicago.

He manages to eat some of the plain croissant left from the breakfast-gone-wrong. He manages to take a shower without feeling like running down the drain with the hot, sticky water. Jeffrey is there, sitting in his spot on the couch, only asking him pointed things like _do you want some cocoa?_ – since Ms. Baker has instructed them not to let Archie drink any caffeine so his anxiety won't flare up – and _do you need anything?_ , questions Archie could’ve gone without but don’t bother him all that much.

He spends the majority of his day lying down, drifting off every now and then while binge-watching (but not really) some Family Guy episodes on Netflix, trying to distract his mind from all the creeping thoughts. There are three recurrent ones: he’s not going to take his SATs this weekend anymore, and Mary’s voice telling Ms. Baker that she and his dad are worried about his future keeps echoing in his brain; he should at least _ask_ Cheryl how she is, but he can’t seem to stomach turning on his phone; and Geraldine.

As much as he wants to block her out and forget that she even existed, he can’t seem to shake one question: was it _all_ a lie? Yes, it was _wrong_. He sees it now. He feels it to the depth of his guts that they should have _never_ been together, that things should have never been the way they were, but was it _real_? He remembers that being with her felt suffocating but also _good_ , or did she trick him into believing it felt good? His feelings, the words he wrote and sang, the thrill on his hands when he touched her – how could he separate the games she played from reality?

Around four, he pauses the episode he was just barely watching and sits on his bed. He reaches for his notebook, the old one where he scribbles lyrics and accompanying chords here and there, the one that looks nothing like the fancy hardcover one Betty encouraged him to buy once.

The first page is just a bunch of scratched words that make no sense, words he organized on the second page. _Candy, she’s sweet like candy in my veins, baby, I’m dying for another taste –_ the very first song he wrote, and it makes his insides clench in a painful way. The only thing that makes sense is the bridge, _thunder’s getting louder and louder_ , and he can’t remember the taste of her kiss, can’t remember it being _sweet_ , just remembers it being _raw_.

Archie rips the first two pages, scrunching them together, grinding his teeth.

The third page is a song he’s never finished, _I’m lost in a memory of the place where the summer ends_ , and he can’t remember what the hell was on his mind when he wrote that.

_Do you want to go under the covers? What do the street lights say to your eyes?_

They never laid together in a bed.

He didn’t even have a picture of her. He can't even remember, inside his hazy mind, what she looks like. She might as well have not existed, and yet here he is, _damaged_ , a lost little boy, ripping all the pages from his lyrics notebook, tearing the paper into a  million, tiny pieces so he doesn’t need to look at them ever again in his goddamn life.

His hands shaking and his eyelashes are sticky with tears, and there he is, suddenly, crying _again_ as he rips yet another page – _take me back to summertime, endless love and endless wine_ , and the only thing he _can_ remember about his last summer was the cracking sound of his ribs and blood, and pain, and being teared apart like he was even more fragile than those stupid white, scribbled sheets.

He rips them all, all the pages, some he shreds to pieces, some he crumples between his hands, until there’s nothing left, just cheap carton covers.

Archie wipes the tears from his eyes before they even fall down his face, and swallows viciously around the lump in his throat, until he sees his guitar in his peripheral vision. Geraldine might have stolen everything from him, but the music – the music was still his, right? The music lived inside him. It came before her.

He forces himself to reach out and get his guitar – it’s heavier than he remembered. It’s _weird_ to hold it now, it’s just a different fit. _That’s bullshit_ , he thinks, sniffling, adjusting to the shape of the instrument he’s played thousands of times, the only thing that has ever made complete sense to him.

The music is _his_ , he repeats to himself, his jaw clenched. The music is his own.

But Archie strums one chord and feels sick. It sounds strange. It’s like he’s underwater. There’s so much crumpled paper around him, words that don’t mean anything anymore, and his hands are shaking again, just like they were yesterday. He can’t do it. He’s unable. He’s _helpless_ , so, fucking helpless. Useless.

Something takes over him, blurring his vision. Archie is trembling with anger, suddenly, a storm bubbling up inside him – he _hates_ her. He hates himself. He hates that he allowed her to fucking possess him like a demon and suck his soul out of his body and now he’s left with _nothing_. He can’t accomplish anything. He’s not _worth_ anything.

On a whim, Archie gets up, smashing his guitar against the bedside table of a room that does not belong to him. The impact comes with a loud sound, like he has wounded yet another thing he loved; but it feels _good_ , it feels so good to break it, to watch through misty eyes as the wood splinters and the chords snap – it’s what he’s good at, isn’t it? Breaking things, destroying everything?

He’s panting and crying, and a whimpering sound comes out of his mouth when he feels hands on his shoulders, pulling him back.

Archie recognizes Jeffrey’s voice as he says his name and repeats _I’ve got you_ over and over. He fights that too – fights the pull, fights the hands, fights the comfort – but Jeffrey is stronger than him in that moment. He manages to grab at his elbows. Archie drops the fretboard, the last intact part of his guitar, and falls back to the bed, exhausted and anguished, diving his hands into his hair.

Jeffrey sits next to him, one hand around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. “It’s okay, buddy. Let it out,” Jeff whispers, planting a paternal kiss into his hair. Archie can’t understand anything that’s happening inside of him anymore, but he collapses into Jeff’s embrace just as he did against his mother’s neck only yesterday.

 

 

 

On Wednesday, he’s back at Ms. Baker’s office, his hair messy from all the times he ran his hands through it, a band-aid wrapped around his right middle finger, his limbs heavy. He asks her about normalcy – _is this how it’s going to be from now on?_ Rage outbursts and crying until he’s exhausted? He can’t get his head around his new reality – how is he supposed to just go back to school and act like everything’s okay? Everyone – his mom, Jeff, Ms. Baker, the doctors when they run blood pressure and blood sugar tests – is saying that word – okay – a lot, but it doesn’t mean anything yet.  
  
His tests results come back fine – his physical health has not been affected by his inner pain, which is good. Still, Ms. Baker does ask him if he’d like another day off – she guarantees that he’s allowed to take as many days as he wants until he’s figured things out, but Archie’s fear of running away from it is even bigger than the fear of facing it. So he shakes his head vehemently, quietly saying that he just wants it all to be over soon.  
  
She gives him the guidance he asks for – tells him to focus on his routine, on his classes, and on the parts of his day that make him feel better. She tells him to be around people that make him feel safe. “It’s in your hands now, Archie,” Ms. Baker tells him in a very soft voice. Archie can’t understand how anyone would put any faith in him right now, but he still smiles a little when he sees the warmth on her face. 

Back in his room, where all the traces of his explosion have already been cleaned and all of the torn sheets of paper thrown away, he can see a guitar lying on his bed. It’s a second-hand Martin DM, crafted in 1984, so beautiful it looks brand new, a note from his mom saying nothing but _we love you_.

Archie feels equally blessed and stupid. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, fighting the urge to cry one more time. His old songbook might be gone but so is _that_ part of his life. Gone, _over_. Taking a deep breath, he promises that he’ll get better – his mom deserves that, and so does his dad, and Jeffrey. And Vegas, his brain adds a second later, making him chuckle. They deserve to have songs written about them. They deserve to be loved back, _real love_ like they’ve offered him even when he was just running from it.

Looking at his new guitar, but not quite willing to play it just yet, Archie remembers briefly that Betty made him buy a new notebook for songwriting, a little while after he’d move to Chicago. He spots it in the middle of some school books on his shelf – it comes back to his mind that he still has some lyrics scribbled in that one. 

Archie reaches out for it, getting ready to rip off the last piece of his delusion – but when he opens the notebook and stares at the words written carelessly on the creamy, thick paper, his brows knit together.

_All of my life, where have you been? I wonder if I’ll ever see you again._

Archie wets his suddenly dry lips. _This_ had nothing to do with Geraldine or Riverdale or all the pain. Those lyrics, he wrote that very morning, after the first time he saw Veronica Lodge walking out of a town car and into his life. _This_ , this song about this mystery rolling into his life and awakening something inside him with such a _bang_ that nothing’s ever been the same again. These are _his_ , his own words, his own feelings, no one else’s.

_And if that day comes, I know we could win. I wonder if I’ll ever see you again._

Taking yet another deep breath, Archie drops the notebook on his bed and fishes his phone out of his pocket. He has been purposely ignoring all the messages his friends have sent him since Saturday night, too ashamed to face them, but he’s read them all. He knew they were– he knew _she_ was worried.

 **_are you alright?_ ** She had asked him yesterday morning, followed by a purple emoji heart she used to send him from time to time. Archie can see her in his mind, through all the fog, her concerned expression, her hair falling over her shoulders as she tilts her head down to stare at her phone, her nails painted dark typing the message away.

 **_yeah_** **,** he answers, followed by a smiley face, which is a little happier than he’s actually feeling, but it’ll have to do. Ronnie reads the message almost immediately, like she was just _waiting_ for him to send her something.

 **_will I ever see you again?_ ** She writes back right away. He's certain she's unaware of what she just did, _of course_ , but Archie’s heart tightens. He feels it thump at the base of his throat.

**_i’ll be back tomorrow._ **

 

 

 

“You look nice,” Betty compliments, noticing Veronica for a moment when she gets in the passenger's seat.

“Thanks.” Veronica's lips turn up in a coy smile, smoothing her black and white tweed skirt against her tight covered legs. She  _did_ spend a few extra minutes choosing her outfit and doing her makeup this morning, needing to feel confident about herself for some stupid, adolescent reason. “Did you manage to get some sleep?”

She asks because they were texting before bedtime and Betty mentioned not feeling tired at all. She does _look_ tired now, though, her hair falling on her shoulders instead of being up in a perky ponytail. Betty shrugs, starting the car so that they can leave The Pembrooke's garage.

“Yeah, I've slept.”

The pavement is dry for the first time this week, but lake Michigan's waters are wrinkling on its surface, the hard wind stripping the trees off its last leaves. The sky is also gray and turbulent, showing that Chicago could hope for more rain at any time. Betty turns on the radio and changes the song until they're listening to something soft, but she doesn't really speak, paying attention to the traffic around them as they head to school.

Veronica has her phone on her hands, checking for any new messages from time to time – she's sent Cheryl a good morning text that hasn't been answered yet, and she's doesn't know why the lack of response makes her nervous. Well, that's a _lie_. She knows why.

“Archie said he'd be around today,” Veronica says, casually, glancing at the last text he sent her yesterday, **_i'll be back tomorrow_** _,_ something she'd answered with yet another purple heart emoji. She's slightly wary of the possibility of him _not_ being around. She doesn't want to keep on worrying. 

Betty shrugs again, “Whatever. I'm not his babysitter.”

Veronica frowns, looking at Betty, who's looking at the red light they've just stopped at. It's not just the ponytail – she does look like someone who's just rolled out a bed and went to school the same way. “Okay, enough already,” Veronica shifts a bit in her seat, turning her body towards her best friend's seat, “why are you being Buzzkill Betty? It can't just be about Archie's GPA.”

Betty's grip on the steering wheel seems to tighten. Veronica wishes she could see her palms – she knew Betty was one to dig her worries into her skin. The blonde girl takes a deep breath, a long one, and exhales slowly as she keeps on driving when the red light turns green. "Juggie," Betty murmurs softly. “He’s hiding something.”

Veronica almost lets the phone slip from her hands. “Why do you say that?” she asks, trying not to sound too weird. Fortunately, Betty seems to be too distracted to notice the slightly higher pitch of her voice. 

Because – _well_ – Jughead is _indeed_ hiding something from Betty. They both are. They had agreed that it would be too dangerous to involve anyone else in their mess before knowing what it was really about, and while Veronica _has_ forgiven Betty for getting her family involved in that ugly scandal, she hasn't forgotten about it – which is why most of the time Veronica doesn't feel really guilty for sharing a secret with her best friend's boyfriend. But seeing Betty so distressed about it does make her stomach stir uncomfortably.

“Things between us have been good,” Betty starts talking, almost to herself, and Veronica realizes that whatever is making her upset, it has nothing to do with their secret. “And it's amazing that he's taken up your offer to help him with his grades, I think NYU is now a possibility for him again, and if we manage to go together to New York it's going to be _amazing_. But he– I don't know, he never lets me go to his place. I can't pick him up. I can't visit his family. I can't–” She inhales again. “He says the neighborhood is too dangerous for me to be there, but it's his _home_ , you know? Why is he hiding it from me?”

Veronica reaches out a hand and places it on Betty's knee, feeling the denim under her palm. She understands why Betty is hurt, but she also understands why Jughead would hide his situation from her – not that Betty would ever be a snob about his living conditions, but she _is_ a privileged girl with a whole family and balanced home-cooked meals, water running hot down the pipes every day. She would look around with condescending green eyes, and he would feel small. Veronica _knew_ , because Veronica would feel exactly the same if she was the one wearing his worn-out shoes. 

Still, it's not something that she can fix for them. “I'm sorry, B. Have you tried to tell him how you feel?”

Betty shakes her head, eyes rimming red. “Not yet.” She sniffs. There's thunder resonating in the gray skies, but no sign of rain just yet. Betty is already parking the car in her customary spot. “I mean – it's a rough week for him. I don't want to be _pushy_ , but– I just can't understand why he still feels that he needs to prove something to me.” She lifts one shoulder. “He's… I love him.”

She hasn't really told Betty about kissing Reggie or how he blurted out those words that she could never tell him back, so she does her best to keep a neutral expression once she hears her best friend's confession. It must be good, to be so sure of something that you can say it without being afraid. There's no word of comfort she can say, so she just squeezes Betty's knee and feels a genuine smile coming to her lips. 

Veronica's eyes are drawn to a truck she knows very well, stopping by the driveway.

“Looks like he's really back.” It's Betty who says that, following Veronica's gaze as it lands on Jeffrey's truck and inevitably on Archie, who has just come out of it. From a distance, he looks exactly like he always did, perhaps his shoulders lower than usual. Veronica bites the inside of her lower lip. “You go say _hello_.” Betty sighs, turning the car off. She sounds a little distant. “I might do my makeup before class. I look like shit.”

“I'll see you in class.”

Veronica forgets about reassuring Betty that she does _not_ look like shit, and gets her backpack – the one still slightly heavier than usual because Archie's sweatshirt is still there. She walks as fast as she can in her high-heeled ankle boots, trying to reach him before he climbs up the entrance stairs. It's _embarrassing_ that she's so excited to see him, but she just wants to be sure that he's alright. “Hey! Archiekins!”

He stops walking once he hears her calling. His hands are in his pockets, and he's wearing yet another Northside Prep sweatshirt with his initials embroidered under its collar – Veronica knows exactly how it feels and smells. She was hoping to envelop him and tell him that he's not _allowed_ to disappear from her life like that, even if for three days, but then–

He's _not_ alright. It's all over his face, from the way his eyes widen just a little bit when he notices her fast approach, to the way he holds his breath almost with a _gasp_. Veronica restrains herself, all the excitement turning to worry again.

“Hey,” she says again, this time a little less enthusiastic. Archie might have taken a few beats to unwind his expression, but now he's looking at her like he always does, soft and warm, a small smile at the corner of his lips. “What happened? If you tell me the bullshit about the stomach bug–”

Archie shakes his head. Veronica knows it means that he won't even try to lie to her, and this is seriously one of the best things about him. “I had a rough weekend, but it's getting better now,” he says in a quiet voice. There must be some kind of _look_ on her face when her eyes drop to the ground, because Archie suddenly places both hands on her arms, making her look up again at him. “Don't worry anymore, alright?”

She lifts up an eyebrow, skeptical. It makes his smile a little bit bigger, but soon it fades from his lips again. He knows _she knows_ about the ex-girlfriend that drove him away from home and now about Cheryl, who didn't reciprocate his feelings, and Veronica feels a little mad at _both_ for making him sad.

“I'm just figuring some stuff out, Ronnie, but it'll be okay.”

She blows out a breath, weirdly missing the weight of his hands on her arms once he lets them go. Veronica wants to say something that would probably be incredibly dull, something like _I'm just glad you're here_ , but she bites her tongue, deciding to steer the conversation to a different direction. “Well, maybe it won't be _that_ okay, because Betty has a thing or two to say about your absence…”

It makes him chuckle, and that will have to be enough for right now.

 

 

 

 

Archie's starts his day with a succession of boring, wearisome meetings with the Northside Prep staff — his mom had called the school to warn them about the real reasons for his absence during the past three days, and he had to sit with Principal Weatherbee and the school counselor for about fifteen minutes before the first period, eyes stuck on a chipped spot on the otherwise pristine wooden table.

“We are very sorry to hear about what happened, Archie,” the counselor, a woman Archie didn't even know existed until now, has a sweet voice that reminds him a little of the way Ms. Baker talks. “If you need anything at all, Mr. Weatherbee and I will always be at your disposal.”

“We do take care of our students here at Northside Prep, Mr. Andrews,” the principal says. They give him a bunch of colorful handouts with different support messages _— NEVER FEAR! WE ARE HERE! — YOU MATTER — 10 WAYS TO STRESS LESS_ ; words that Archie reads with a bitter taste in his mouth before shoving them to the bottom of his backpack.

Maybe if he had paid any attention to those when he was back in Riverdale High, things would've been different.

Coach Clayton also asks to see him in his office. He looks distressed and even a bit emotional, a report from the school counselor in his hands explaining the case. “Oh, son,” he says, in a voice so soft that it doesn't even fit his figure. “You're dismissed from the game this weekend — you can come back to practice next week, okay? Just take care of yourself.”

Everything's the same, but everything's different.

Somehow, Archie feels like it's his first day at that school all over again. Walking down the hallways, one headphone on his ear, trying not to crawl out of his own skin. The first person to talk to him besides Veronica is Jason, who finds him by his locker to tap his back and say _sorry man, being sick sucks_ and to talk about how they need to rearrange their lineup since Archie won't be playing.

(He sees Cheryl by the lockers too, talking to Valerie. She's wearing red as always, and his heart beats in a weird, taut way. She sees him too — her brown eyes drink him in, up and down, and she holds her books against her chest. He wonders if she recognizes something in him, if she _knows_. He wishes he could be brave enough to talk to her, but it's still— he's not ready. And, apparently, by the way she walks away from him, neither is she.)

Archie tries to talk to Betty during geometry, and the look she gives him confirms that she _is_ indeed pissed, just like Veronica warned him. It's not Betty's fault, though — she doesn't know _why_ he needed to throw away all their progress. She keeps side-eyeing him and chewing on the end of her pen, but when the teacher asks them to find partners for an assignment, she promptly slides her chair towards his, making him smile a little. They only talk about lines and angles, but that's okay.

Kevin hugs him when they bump into each other when the bell rings, signaling their lunch break. “This school is even more tragic without you around,” he says.

But his neighbor does lecture him about eating _chocolate protein bars_ as a snack while he is still healing from the stomach flu — that's when Archie feels that the cafeteria might be too overwhelming. Even if no one knows the truth, he feels their eyes on him, and the chattering is just too loud on his ears. He's thinking if he should ask Kevin to sit with him outside, when he feels a small hand touching his arm, just above his elbow.

“Are you okay?”

It's Veronica.

Archie's heart skips a beat — she's beautiful in black, white, and gray, a sober, steady point amidst the confusion. There's a small frown on her face — it's the same preoccupied expression from this morning. Archie doesn't want her to worry about him, but he's not _ashamed_ of her or overpowered by her presence. “Yeah,” he says, doing his best to smile a bit. Kevin has already gone to the table to sit with Betty. They're both looking at the scene, but Archie can't seem to mind when Veronica smiles back. “Hey, do you wanna have lunch outside? This place, I just—”

She bites down her lower lip. “Of course, Archiekins.”

 

 

 

 

The courtyard is a hundred times emptier than the cafeteria — the weather isn't that great, thick, dark clouds hovering above them, thunder echoing every now and then. She doesn't complain, though, placing her lunch tray on one of the empty tables and taking a seat across from him.

They just eat in silence for a while. Archie _knows_ there are a million questions Veronica probably wants to ask him about his absence, but she doesn't. He thinks that he _could_ tell her. There has always been something about her that inspired his trust — it has always been so easy, talking to her. But at the same time, he doesn't _want_ to talk about what happened anymore, and he's impossibly grateful that she keeps her doubts to herself, throwing him a glance or two just so he knows that she's _here._

“I think Saint Paul didn't get the memo that we'd be having lunch outside today,” he says, looking up when particularly loud thunder roars around them.

“You mean Saint Peter?” Veronica raises her eyebrows. The air is cold and the wind blows Veronica's hair onto of her face, some strands getting stuck in her glossed mouth. “He's the one in charge of the weather.”

“Uh,” Archie frowns. “I'm pretty sure it's Saint Paul.”

“Uh, _no_? One-hundred percent Peter.” She points a fork towards him. “You know nothing about saints, Archiekins.”

There's a flirty undertone in her voice that makes her smile shyly, looking down. It transfers Archie back to _before_ , before he realized how his thing with Geraldine had been a lie, before Cheryl kissed him — his biggest concern then was Reggie fucking Mantle and how Archie might never find the courage to tell Ronnie how he felt.

Everything's changed. It's different now. He's not sure he can trust his own heart now, after figuring out where it lead him, but he still _feels it_ , somehow. She's biting on a piece of melon, and the cold wind is making her cheek just a little redder than usual.

“Thank you,” he blurts out, sounding more solemn than he intended. Her eyes are back on his face, and her smile fades from her lips. _For coming outside with me_ , he means. _For worrying about me. For existing._ “It means a lot.”

She shrugs a little. “Whatever you need,” she says, heaving out a breath. “Just don't disappear again, okay?”

He's about to answer when a heavy drop of rain falls right on the middle of his forehead, startling him. Veronica chuckles, and then looks up. The first drop is followed by another, and then another.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Archie curses, getting up quickly, gathering their food onto one tray. Veronica has already placed her backpack over her head and is _running —_ trotting, because her heels are ridiculously high and they keep getting stuck in the grass — towards the nearest covered spot, which happens to be a marquee of some sort. The rain is now falling _heavily,_ as heavy as that day in Geraldine's car, but Archie doesn't have time to think about it, following Veronica to get some shelter.

“ _My shoes_ ,” Veronica laments, sitting on the — thankfully — dry floor. Archie's hair is plastered to his forehead. Her hair is still very much the same, just a little fizzier, but her heels are covered in mud and dirt. “ _Oh_ , my shoes.” She pouts, taking them off.

Archie looks down at her, and then at the tray he's still carrying. Their food is ruined — their sandwiches are soaked. His cocoa paper cup fell somewhere in the grass as he was running, and her fruit salad is now floating in rainwater. “Shit, I'm sorry, Ronnie,” he says, feeling wet and defeated, his damp sweatshirt heavy around his body. Archie discards the tray and sits on the floor too, both stranded as the rain pours. “Do you want to take mine?”

“You're kidding me, right?” Veronica looks at him as if she's about to stab him with her ruined heels — but then her expression softens at his anticipation, and the corner of her lips tremble a bit. Then she breaks, cracking up in spite of herself. Archie looks down and notices that his Converses are also soaked and dirty, and he laughs too.

“Sorry, Saint Paul,” he says, running a hand through his hair to remove it from his eyes. The universe might be against him, but at least he can feel a weight being lifted off his shoulders to the sound of Veronica's laughter.

Archie looks at her, her smile and her ruined shoes. He waits until his own smile has diminished a little and asks, “What's your favorite color?”

Veronica looks somewhat curious and amused. “Are we playing twenty questions to kill time?”

Archie rolls his eyes. “C'mon.”

She taps a finger on her chin, as if she's thinking about an answer. “I don't know. For clothes, it's definitely black, but I also love purple. And red? But when I was little I wanted everything green.” She shrugs a little. “I'd like to think it's something luxurious, though, like… silver.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“Well, _I'm sorry_ not all of us can be simple and just say _blue._ ” She scowls.

“How do you even know my favorite color is blue?”

“It's only seventy-five percent of your wardrobe.” Veronica tilts her chin up, looking confident. He bites his lower lip to hold a smile. She's so pretty. “Also, your favorite hero is Captain America, so you're just an ambulant cliché.”

Archie supposes he should pretend to be a little offended, but he feels the muscles on his face and neck soften, something warm coming up his cheeks. “You remember that?”

 _She_ looks a little offended. “Yes. Your coffee order is a latte with one sugar. You're probably a Gryffindor, and you close your eyes while you're playing the guitar,” she goes on, her voice loud and assured. “I do know some things about you, Archie Andrews.”

Archie's eyes meet hers for a moment, his heart tightening like it did when he found the song he wrote about her. She looks down, then, soft smile still on her lips. He wants to answer that — but there are so many things running around his brain lately, and he doesn't know where to start. He's already said _thank you._ “Ronnie?”

She looks up at him, big brown eyes a little curious. He remembers that before today, the last time he'd seen her she had been pressed to the side of his body, the only warm spot in a freezing world. Archie lifts up an arm, a movement of his head asking her to come closer.

Veronica sighs, abandoning her shoes and sliding next to him and into his embrace. He thinks she's only going to lean into his side again, like she did at the lake, but she doesn't. Instead, she turns her body a little, both arms around his neck, hugging him closer until his face is smashed against her hair, and his damp sweatshirt is thick against her own damp clothes.

Archie lowers his face a little, his nose against her shoulder, one hand in the middle of her back. He's cried in his Mom's arms and then in Jeffrey's, but with Ronnie and her sweet perfume, he doesn't feel _sad_. He doesn't feel helpless.

He just feels like himself. Some version of himself that he desperately wants to meet again.

“I've missed you, you know,” she says, somewhere near his face. Archie nods, still breathing her in. They're friends. He's fucked up, and it's not that easy. But he's certain of one thing: he might know nothing about saints, but he knows a thing or two about angels.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to a super-fast author's note that i'm only throwing in here because i don't want to leave an empty space. i'm on the go, which is why i still haven't answered your amazing reviews or will talk more, but hey! at least it's an update. hope you like it ;)
> 
> song at the beggining: find my way back, by cody fry. archie's songs: electric love, by borns (acoustic version) / song that everyone sings, by archie himself / under cover, by ducktails / again, by lenny kravitz.


	21. Chapter 21

_ you and me are floating on a tidal wave, together _

 

 

 

On Saturday night, after the Mustangs win against the Chicago Academy Cougars — only by a few baskets, since their performance was a bit reduced given Archie's absence, but a victory nonetheless — Veronica, perhaps fueled by the adrenaline from the match, decides to stop over analyzing everything and invites Cheryl to a sleepover at her house. 

They haven't been  _ alone  _ since that day in the girls' locker room, always around the other girls, and Veronica keeps feeling weirdly  _ guilty  _ about it — she's been spending so time with Archie ever since they got stuck in the rain under that marquee, watching him heal little by little, that she's almost forgotten to check on Cheryl and keep on building their friendship back up. Veronica doesn't want it to look like she picked Archie's side in their fallout. 

Plus, her birthday is coming next week — her  _ eighteenth  _ birthday. Cheryl has helped her organize her party ever since they were eleven and started having a say on what they'd do for their birthdays. And while Cheryl isn't so good with putting everything together like Betty and Josie, she is definitely a birthday enthusiast. Her own birthday (the one she shares with Jason) is often composed of seven or eight different events — in fact, the Blossom twins didn't have a birth _ day;  _ they had a birth _ month _ . This August, however, Cheryl had given it up to be with Veronica in Switzerland, so the least Veronica can do is ask her (and only her) to be her partner in this. 

Veronica's parents are having dinner somewhere, one of their obligatory  _ date nights  _ or something. So, she opens a bottle of expensive red wine from their small wine cellar, and she and Cheryl end up on a couch in the living room, wearing their silky pajamas, heads on opposite sides and legs tangled in the middle. 

Cheryl's phone keeps vibrating, and Veronica wonders who’s texting her so much. She wonders if it's  _ Archie _ . But Cheryl doesn't seem really bothered by it, ignoring the messages as she shows Veronica a board on her Pinterest called  _ V's 18th _ . 

“When did you start assembling this?” Veronica asks, as she scrolls down a sea of silver-glittery mason jars and DIY ideas they'd never do themselves. 

Cheryl's bare toes are stuck under Veronica's thigh for warmth. She shrugs, smiling a bit. “When we started talking again. Figured you'd need my infinite knowledge when the time arrived.” 

“And you were right, as per usual,” Veronica says, taking a sip of her wine. Maybe it's because their upbringing was so similar — galas and dinner parties and infinite time spent with adults — but Cheryl is the one friend that also appreciates this kind of indulgence – wine, fireplaces, dark, rich chocolate, and silky fabrics. “I agree with this whole thing you've got going on here for decoration, but  _ where _ should we host it? It's going to be hard to top that place on Ontario Street from last year.” 

“Oh,” Cheryl places her phone close to her chest, dramatically, “ _ Chez  _ was indeed incredible. Last year's party was your best birthday, hands down. If only you had a different escort.” 

“Yeah,” she shifts around, a bit uncomfortable, “this year, I'll be solo, celebrating myself as I should.”

“Yeah.” Cheryl sighs, putting her phone down on the couch. It keeps buzzing with notifications. “Me too.” 

Veronica bites down on her lower lip. She still hasn't told Cheryl about what happened with Reggie down at his lake house — it's only fair, since Cheryl still hasn't told her what happened between her and Archie either.  _ Well _ , besides that they're  _ just friends  _ and that she could have never broken his heart even if she did. 

It's just that — Cheryl  _ also  _ looks so sad about it. Veronica has noticed, the way she's been avoiding Archie at school (and the way Archie just stops dead in his tracks every time he sees her down the hall). She has noticed how their brown eyes always meet, and she feels like she did back in the Variety Show:  _ left out  _ in a weird way, like she's not allowed to witness their silent conversation. 

Veronica doesn't understand why she feels like she should apologize to Cheryl. Like she should just say  _ hey, I'm sorry I'm worried about Archie. I'm sorry I keep thinking about this when it's none of my business.  _

_ I'm sorry I keep thinking about him.  _

She won't say any of this though, but she does run a hand over Cheryl's calf, feeling the silky material of her pajama pants under her palm before starting, carefully, “Will it, uh, be okay between us if I invite everyone from school?”

Cheryl glances up at her, looking so fragile without any makeup on and with her hair loosely braided. Veronica means Archie, yes, but she also means Betty. “It's your birthday, V,” Cheryl says, paying attention to her wine glass. “You should invite anyone you want.” 

Veronica's lips curl up in a smile, and she gives Cheryl's ankle a squeeze. It just means  _ thank you _ . “What about one of those places by Fulton Market? The  _ decadence avec elegance  _ goes well with the whole  _ millennium coming of age  _ theme.” 

“Like Morgan's?” Veronica nods, and Cheryl seems to enjoy the idea. “We'll make some calls in the morning,” the redhead says, chirpy, and polishes off the wine in her glass. She sits up to reach for the wine bottle on the coffee table and refill their glasses, when her phone gives up just buzzing from time to time and starts vibrating continuously. 

It's not on purpose — she's not trying to snoop or anything — but when Veronica looks down and notices who's calling Cheryl, her heart skips a beat. “Uh… Cher. Why is  _ Reggie  _ calling  _ you _ ?” 

Cheryl turns to her a bit too quickly, but there's nothing on her face that gives away anything. In fact, she looks instantly  _ annoyed,  _ grabbing her phone and answering it like it isn't weird at all. "You're calling the wrong Blossom twin," she rapidly tells Reggie, hanging up before he even has a chance to say something. "Scratch what I just said, V. You shouldn’t invite your ghost of boyfriend’s past.” 

“I wasn't planning to,” she says, sighing and finishing her wine in one big gulp. There's a stupid conspiracy voice in the back of her mind — that sounds strangely like Kevin — saying something like  _ and the plot thickens _ , but she firmly shakes it off, commanding herself not to listen to it.

 

 

 

 

Monday starts off with the Vixens hanging up banners that congratulate the basketball team — after their latest victory, they became the only undefeated team in the tournament, winning five out of five games. The boys are proud of their achievement and all put their letterman jackets on, walking down the hallways among taps on their backs and big smiles. 

Veronica is on the last step of a folding ladder, helping Ginger tie a knot that would secure the banner (FEAR THE MUSTANGS! 5/5) into place. She's just humming some early 00's song that had been stuck in her head all weekend (thanks to one of Cheryl's playlists) —  _ the road is now a sudden sea, and suddenly you're deep enough to lay your armor down  _ — as she watches Reggie place stuff in his locker, her mind wandering to that awkward moment when he mistakenly called Cheryl, but then her eyes are immediately drawn to Archie's red hair when she spots him a little further down the hallway. 

She climbs down the ladder dangerously fast so she can reach him. Archie might not have played in the last game, but somehow he's also been gifted with a letterman jacket, the maroon wool clashing nicely with his auburn hair and with the smile on his face when she lifts her eyebrows towards her hairline, slightly pulling his white sleeve.

“Nice outfit,” she says, her lips together in a fine line to suppress a smile. Archie's cheeks turn red in that endearing way, and he scratches the back of his head. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, almost apologetically, leaning his shoulder on the metal lockers, “Coach said I played a part in all of it, so…” 

“You deserve it.” Veronica says, letting his sleeve go, keeping her hands to herself. “And while they did win without you, it turns out that they'd be even better with you, so let's not miss the next game.” 

Archie's lips curl up in a grin. He looks  _ good _ . He always looked good, of course, but there's something different about it — that jacket, that sheepish smile, those hallways. He looks better. He looks like he belongs. 

“So, I do have something to tell you.”

“Really?” He looks over at her, curious.

“My birthday is this Saturday,” Veronica says, tilting her chin up with pride. “And you will be invited to my party.” 

Archie makes a face, as if wary that there is a  _ catch  _ to it. “I  _ will  _ be?” 

“Yes. As long as you  _ say it _ .” She glances at him, one eyebrow kinking up. He knows what she’s referring to. 

“No way,” he says on a laugh, but Veronica looks right at him. “Are you really going to make me repeat that?”

“I am just being careful.” She folds her arms in front of her body. “C'mon. I, Archie Andrews —”

Archie shakes his head, still laughing, but eventually, he gives in to her determined face. “Okay,” he takes in a deep breath, straightening his back and lifting his right hand up, “I, Archie Andrews, promise that I will never leave you, Veronica Lodge, on read again.”

“Such a jerk move!” She points at him, narrowing her eyes.

“It was such a jerk move,” he agrees, solemnly, nodding with his words.

It  _ wasn't  _ a jerk move. Veronica knows it, just as she knows that it's not really Cheryl's fault. She knows he didn't ignore her on purpose. She knows that he was trying to mend his heart somehow and that he needed a break from all of it. They had spent almost one hour in that marquee last Thursday, stuck in the rain, and he still looked so sad then — she couldn't hug his pain away. She couldn't say the right thing. So, she turned it around, started making jokes here and there just to get him smiling again, told him how she had  _ never  _ been left on read by a  _ guero  _ before, and that's how that promise started. He cracked up then, when she made him say those words — laughed so hard that he had to press a hand over his eyes, and the sound of his laughter warmed up the blood in her veins, so much that she could feel her cheeks tingling and her muscles soften.

Her clothes were damp and her shoes were ruined, and the world around them was gray and the sky was falling apart, but his smile was like a beam of sunlight in the middle of it all. She could only guess how it was, to be so good that you light up everything you touch even if you feel dark yourself. She could only imagine.

“Well,” Veronica starts, satisfied, “thank you! Do you want to go to my birthday party this Saturday?”

Archie's expression shifts a little, and Veronica feels her body tense up — was he about to decline her invitation? “I _really_ want to,” he says, and she already can hear the _but_ come right after, “but I'm not sure my mom— well, I'm not sure _I_ should—” Archie heaves out a breath. “My party record has been terrible.”

“Unacceptable, Archiekins!” Veronica places both hands on her hips. She'll be damned if she'll allow him to stay home sulking yet another weekend. Call her a spoiled brat, daddy's little girl, but she  _ wants  _ Archie to be there. She didn't even know him last year, but now it's not like she can imagine her life without him. And Cheryl had already said  _ yes. _ “My birthday isn't any party — it's the most anticipated event of the year. I will go to your mom and tell her that personally,” she says. Archie keeps looking at her like he does from time to time, somewhere between a smile and a frown. “You should fear me. I'm a Scorpio.”

“I'm a Cancer. What does that mean?” Veronica almost rolls her eyes —  _ of course,  _ he'd be a Cancer. “Am I lame?”

“It depends on whether you are going to my party or not,” she says right before the bell rings, and it adds a whole dramatic effect to her words. Archie chuckles. “See you later, Andrews!”

 

 

 

 

Archie is sitting on Ms. Baker's gray couch, as he had done the majority of the previous week, but this time he doesn't feel like he's sinking into the cushions. But he's still tired — even though he slept throughout the weekend, finally getting some real  _ rest _ , going back to practice wasn't as easy as he wanted it to be. It's still a little hard to move around, but it was a solid ninety minutes without thinking about  _ anything _ .

He's still waiting for Ms. Baker to arrive, idly playing games on his phone, when it buzzes in his hand, a new notification from Veronica Lodge popping up on his screen. He smiles when he reads it.  **_just checking if you're keeping your promise_ ** , it says, and his heart starts beating a little bit faster, his cheeks getting warmer.

**_i thought you'd have a little more faith, ronnie._ ** He answers almost immediately because there's no reason to play any sort of waiting games.

**_not big on faith. i only work with results, archiekins._ ** She texts back, and the laughter bubbles up from his ribcage because he can  _ hear  _ her words in her voice as if she was right there with him. He wonders, momentarily, what Veronica would say if she  _ knew _ he is waiting for his  _ therapist  _ to arrive so they could talk about this huge fucking thing that happened to him. Something tells him that she'd understand, that she'd be sympathetic, but that she'd also try to fix it for him.

He sends her a rolling-eyes emoji that she answers with her usual purple heart, and Archie stares at it for a long time until he's interrupted by Ms. Baker's arrival. “Hey, sweetie. You look better,” she says, sitting in her yellow chair, and Archie places his phone in his new jacket pocket. “Do you  _ feel  _ better? How was coming back to school?”

“Better than I expected. I… I really like my new friends. They missed me while I was gone, and they worried about me. The basketball team is counting on me too, so—” He shrugs a little, hoping that Ms. Baker understands that these factors helped him realize that there's nothing holding him back from actually  _ living  _ his own life now. “Is it normal that I feel like last week happened a thousand years ago?”

“What it  _ is  _ and how we feel — there's no say on what's normal or not,” she says, taking off her shoes as usual. She's wearing polka dotted socks today, and Archie stares at them for a beat before nodding slowly. “It sounds to me like you've found some sort of connection to your life again, going back to school?”

“Yeah…” He wets his lips quickly. “Definitely. I am just— I don't know. There's this whole  _ world  _ ahead now, and I just— I don't wanna let anyone down again, you know? Mom is still super worried and I  _ get  _ that's what she does. She worries, but I wanted to prove to her that I'll be alright. But what if I'm not? I mean— isn't it too fast?” 

Ms. Baker smiles softly. “ _ Time  _ is just a made up form of measurement, Archie. What matters really is… If you're  _ here _ . In the moment. You understand what I mean?” He frowns a bit, but keeps on nodding, letting her words sink in. “You're allowed to let go of the pain. If you get over it in a day or in a decade, it doesn't change anything. It doesn't  _ cheapen  _ what you've felt.” 

“I… I tried to talk to Cheryl. You know, the girl that was with me when I panicked?” He breathes out. “I wanted to apologize, to explain that it wasn't  _ her fault,  _ but I still can't, you know? And I feel like she's avoiding me too, so… I don't know. She was having some sort of issue with her brother, so it might not be my fault too?”

“It's no one's fault, sweetie. You don't need to figure everything out just yet.” Ms. Baker's voice is as patient as always. “Do you feel that not solving your relationship with this girl is affecting your other relationships?”

Archie shakes his head. “No one even knows what happened between us,” he says. Not even Veronica — Veronica, who was the only one to call out his lie about the stomach flu, the one who lent him her notes for the classes he's missed, the one who held him tight under a marquee on a rainy day and whispered that she'd missed him even though it had been only four days. Veronica, who had given him the space he needed by not asking anything about what made him sad but who was there for him every single moment. Veronica, who was looking  _ incredibly beautiful  _ that morning when she invited him to his birthday party, her hair in soft waves and her teal shirt clinging to all the right points on her torso. He opens his mouth and closes it again. “I… I don't wanna sound like a player or anything, but—”

“Please, Archie. I'd never think that of you.” Ms. Baker laughs a little, and it makes Archie's cheeks warm up – but it also makes him feel a little better.

“It was never like  _ that  _ between Cheryl and I. I — I like another girl,” he says. “Since day  _ one _ , I— her name is Veronica. She's Cheryl's best friend. But she's also kind of  _ my  _ best friend, and it's all complicated. But when I'm around Veronica, as dark as things get… She makes me feel like everything is gonna be fine. And I'm— I am scared that it's… How do I know if it's  _ real _ ? If it's not happening again? Am I just fooling myself again? Should I even trust my feelings?”

“Let's get one thing straight, sweetie. What happened to you was _real_. It happened, and you've _really_ felt everything you've felt. It wasn't _right_ for a million reasons that we've already discussed, but it was real. And this girl, Veronica— she's real too. She's even more real because she's _here,_ _now_.”

Archie's teeth sink into his lower lip. “What should I do? Is it too soon?”

Ms. Baker's soft smile comes back to the corner of her lips. “I don't know, Archie. And that's the beauty of it. It's your decision. It's your choice, sweetie. It's only in your hands, this time, and no one will take that away from you.”

 

 

 

 

Veronica is at the dining room table, finishing up her homework as usual, but she can't focus. The event planner at the Marlon's by Fulton had send her an email that started with  _ Dear Miss Lodge  _ and ended with  _ We hope to assist you some other time,  _ which meant the venue she and Cheryl had chosen for her birthday wouldn't be available. She's been thinking about somewhere else — but  _ Cristo,  _ it's already late afternoon on Wednesday, and Cheryl has been ignoring her texts the whole day.

(She didn't even go to class — Veronica kept staring at Archie's back as he sat alone in his station, a little worried as to how things would go once Cheryl showed up, but she ultimately didn't. The teacher paired Archie up with Adam Chrisholm. Veronica rolled her eyes, wondering if Cheryl was playing some sort of game to avoid Archie, but she apparently wasn't even at school, since she missed cheer practice as well.) 

Veronica gives up dealing with geography and sends Cheryl yet another text.  **_i am about to have a nervous breakdown. where are you???_ ** She writes. It's a little more dramatic than needed, but she's really tired of being ignored by pretty redheaded people. 

She taps her fingernails on the hardwood table as she waits for an answer that's probably not coming anytime soon, her brain trying to find another way of getting what she wants. There's one thing Veronica can't understand:  _ how  _ could anyone read her last name at the bottom of an email and still say  _ no _ . Lodge Industries paid for half the renovations in Fulton's Market. That event planner was out of her mind. 

She  _ could  _ ask her parents to solve this for her — she's about to be  _ eighteen _ , though, and that wouldn't be a great first step into adulthood. 

_ Fuck it _ , she thinks, grabbing her phone and dialing her father's number. It's not anything new, calling him in the middle of the day to ask him to take some impending matter into his own hands, but after everything, Veronica feels  _ weird  _ doing it. 

“Hola, mija,” Hiram answers around the fifth ring, as he usually does. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” Veronica sighs. “Actually—  _ no _ , it's not. You know that place, Marlon's, the one by Fulton's Market? The Penthouse?” 

“Yes.” Her father sounds a little distracted. She can see him dealing with more important papers as they speak, and quickly wonders the nature of those papers. It leaves her with a bad taste in her mouth, and she hates to be asking him anything — but it's also just means to an end. Right? “What about it?”

“I tried to rent it for my birthday party this Saturday, and the woman said they're already booked. I mean— pretty bold of her, wasn't it? I was thinking if you could help talk to them for me—”

“Uh, your mother still haven't told you?” Hiram's tone makes Veronica frown. He continues before she even says anything — it's like he listened to her silent confusion. “This Saturday we have an important event to attend, mija, and you need to be by our side. There's a gala to launch the Mayor's reelection campaign, and Lodge Industries' support is crucial.”

“You're going to make me attend a  _ political dinner  _ on  _ my birthday _ ?”

“I'm not going to  _ make you  _ do anything, Veronica. We told you'd be participating more in the business, and you  _ will  _ be. It starts this Saturday.”

“But  _ Daddy.  _ It's my —”

“Eighteenth birthday, yes. I am aware that eighteen Novembers ago you were born, Veronica, and I am very happy that we'll be able to celebrate it together as you stand by my side and start to take responsibility for your legacy.” He's so unfaltering that Veronica finds it hard to fight back. She swallows hard, feeling all her muscles stiffening with disappointment, and says nothing. “Anything else you need, mija?”

“No.” She bites down her lower lip. “Bye, Daddy.”

 

 

 

 

The next day, when it's been almost twenty-four hours since Cheryl even checked her messaging app (she didn't even  _ see  _ the  **_party's off_ ** text Veronica sent her followed by a sad emoji) and is still nowhere to be found, Veronica tells Betty she'll meet her in AP Lit and runs to catch Jason before he disappears to whatever class he has next.

“Hey, JJ!”

He slows down his pace so she can fall into step with him. They hadn't  _ really  _ spoken ever since he's learned about the  _ thing  _ that happened between her and Reggie, but at least he wasn't ignoring her.

“You okay?” He asks. Veronica knows she's not looking her best today — she hasn't properly slept, googling everything she could about the current mayor, Daniel F. Harris, a Republican in his fifties who isn't the best neither the worst ruler that Chicago has ever had. She obviously couldn't find any dirt nor any unmistakable reason for Lodge Industries to be his biggest supporter.

“Yeah,” she says, tired. “Listen, is Cheryl alright? She just disappeared on me, and I don't know if I did something or—”

Jason shakes his head. “She's not in the city,” he says, heaving out a breath. “My parents took her to California to visit some colleges there.” He takes in Veronica's surprised face, and there's bitterness in his voice when he goes on. “Yep. Apparently, she has that option now, but I have to stay here and follow their big plan.”

_ Oh.  _ An Ivy League university, business school, and then a big take over of the family's  _ legacy _ . Veronica is very familiar with the whole concept since has had that big plan mapped out for her, too. The Blossoms had always put their faith more in Jason's hands than Cheryl's, that's true, but until two days ago the twins were supposed to apply to the same school. She wonders what could've changed — she also wonders why Cheryl didn't tell her she was traveling. They spent the whole weekend together. 

Jason says that he'll let her know if Cheryl reaches out, and they part ways for their respective classes. When lunch break comes, he's not in the cafeteria. Veronica sits in her usual spot across from Betty and Kevin, and soon Archie slides in by her side, wearing his letterman jacket again. The woolen white sleeve brushes against Veronica's arm, and he grins at her to greet her — they still hadn't seen each other today. 

Veronica forgets for a moment about the other redhead that has left her on read, and smiles back.

“Oh, Betty,” Veronica glances from Archie to Kevin, finding that the latter is looking at them with bright green eyes and a hand on his heart, “I can't believe we have our personal duo of Vixen-slash-Mustang right in front of us. We have officially become cool.”

Archie laughs, flicking a chip at Kevin. Veronica rolls her eyes, but she can't help the quiet flush on her cheeks as she bites into her apple.

“I don't know, Kev,” Betty chimes in. “She still hasn't invited us to her party.” 

Archie seems half-amused, half-confused — she did invite  _ him _ , after all — but Veronica suddenly remembers that there won't be any party to cement Kevin and Betty's status as  _ cool kids. _ Her expression shifts, so his does too. His frown becomes something resembling worry. Veronica finishes chewing her fruit before looking at Betty with apologetic eyes. 

“That's because there won't be a party,” she says in a sigh. “My parents need me to be somewhere with them, so that’s what I’m doing this Saturday.”

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence, where none of them know exactly what to say, but it’s broken by Kevin, who pouts. “Oh  _ no _ ,” he says, sounding devastated. “This is a disaster. We weren't invited to your party last year and now we would've been invited, but there won't be a party!”

Veronica tries to smile so she can show her friends that she's okay with that decision — to be completely honest, it's  _ not  _ the end of the world, and she has no idea  _ why  _ she's so disappointed. It's  _ just  _ a stupid birthday that she can celebrate on any other day or any other time — but her mouth disobeys her, like it has forgotten how to move upwards.

“I'm sorry, V,” Betty says with soft green eyes. “We can get together on Sunday, maybe? Have some fancy brunch?” Her voice is so sweet, yet so patronizing, and Veronica hates when that happens. She hates being in a position where she  _ clearly  _ needs some kind of comfort, and everyone notices. It makes her feel completely foreign in her own skin.

“Sure,” she shrugs again, feeling her stomach hurt a little, “we'll see how it goes.”

Betty smiles, satisfied with that, and resumes eating her lunch. Kevin is still pouting, playing with his own chips but not eating them at all, and Veronica feels Archie shifting a little next to her, reaching out a hand and placing it on her lower back in a silent, comforting gesture that no one notices. She glances over at him. He has a small, soft smile on his lips, something that says  _ hey, I'm here _ , because he is her friend. But his hand is warm, she feels it even through the fabric of her shirt. 

She takes a deep breath and waits for him to stop touching her — he does remove his hand a split second after, and Veronica does her best to ignore that her skin is covered with goosebumps from head to toe.

 

 

 

 

Archie somehow has an entire catalogue in his brain with faces Veronica makes and their meanings. He knows, for example, all of her smiles — the little one, just a slight curl upwards that means she's trying not to give herself away; the one that precedes laughter, forming dimples at the corners of her mouth; the one that gets her almost everything she wants. He even remembers, all too well, the smile in between kisses, followed by a breathy sound. And that's why he knows that the smile she gave Kevin and Betty (and him) at the lunch table was the one that didn't reach her eyes. 

They walk together to history class, and she's unusually quiet. They stop by her locker so she can get some books. Archie has no idea how he'll do it, but he'll get her smiling for real again. It feels like the only important thing to do. 

Because he likes Betty and Kevin  _ so much _ , he likes Cheryl — he actually  _ misses  _ Cheryl, especially now that she seems to be taking her own time off and is not going to school — and Jason and everyone on the team (with one slicked-back hair exception), but Veronica has been different from the start. She's always been so easy to open up too. He's always felt he's in the right place around her, and she's his best friend, even though she's also so much more to him. 

“I'm sorry,” he tries, leaning on the metal again, a small _dejà-vu_ of earlier in the week, when she was inviting him to her party. “I even convinced my mom and all.” He gives her a sheepish smile, and she gives him something back — the little one — before raising her shoulders slightly, her mouth back into a more serious shape. He wonders if that's the only thing he'll get out of her, but Veronica takes a deep breath that she releases slowly as she fumbles with the things in her locker. 

“I don't know why I'm so upset,” she confesses, looking over at him quickly. “It's just a  _ party _ . I'm usually not so petty about— Betty said herself, we can celebrate on Sunday, but I feel like I'm overreacting. I  _ can't stop  _ overreacting, and it's just—”

Archie reaches out a hand again, touching her arm this time, just above her elbow. Veronica interrupts herself with another deep breath.  Archie does open his mouth to say something — something probably stupid, because right now he's weirdly focused on how soft her skin is under his palm — but she shakes her head, as if she wants to keep on talking.

“I guess it's just this year. It's been… I mean. It's our last year of high school. We'll all be in different places when it's over, and everything in my life has just changed  _ so much. _ ” _ She _ nibbles on her lower lip. “My relationship is over. I'm back being friends with Kevin and Betty, but I almost lost Cheryl in the process. And my parents — I feel like I don't know them anymore, Archie. They're just making all these decisions and not  _ once have  _ they considered how all of it might affect me.”

He remembers what ultimately interrupted them those months ago — her father doing some late-night business with a guy in a suspicious leather jacket. He's always wanted to ask her what _that_ was all about, if they're so rich because they're not good people or something, but he also has always known that deep inside he didn't care about the answer. It wouldn't have changed anything. Archie knows _her_ , and that's enough for him.

“I wish I could just trust them,” she says, her gaze falling to the ground.

“Well,” Archie squeezes her arm a bit, making her look up, “I once sat on the bleachers with this pretty girl during the school dance, and she told me to trust that my parents were trying to do what was best for me,” he says. Veronica does smile, the one that starts soft and grows bigger with every word he says, making him feel like a conqueror. “And now, in retrospect, they really were. So maybe it's the same for you?”

She shakes her head, but the smile remains on her lips. “It will never be the same for me, Archiekins but thank you.” She holds his wrist, her thumb slowly rubbing his skin. “I hope your mom lets you go to brunch or whatever Betty has in mind.”

“I'll be there for you, Ronnie.” He smiles, softly pulling her closer so he can hold her — and she lets him. The side of her face presses to his chest, and his arms encircle her in an embrace, his chin resting on the top of her head. Veronica fits perfectly in his arms. He feels a little brave, lowering his face and planting a kiss on her hair, inhaling the smell of her shampoo.

Archie may not be ready for the weight of it yet, and Ms. Baker did tell him it's a choice only he can make, but it's not really much of a choice. Veronica won him over a long time ago.

 

 

 

 

There's no practice on Thursdays, but Archie stays a little longer after school so he can use the gym. Coach Clayton really wants them to stay undefeated, and all the boys are in fighting shape. He doesn't want anything to jeopardize his position on the team. Exercising is good — it takes his mind off things. But so far, no series of shoulder presses are helping. He keeps feeling Veronica's scent in his nostrils, the way her body was so  _ soft  _ against his, because she was sad and leaning on him  _ again _ , and she had done so much to make him feel better. He wishes he could do something too. 

The idea creeps into his brain all of a sudden, making him pause the exercises for a bit. Maybe there  _ is  _ something he can do to save her birthday, and the perspective makes an uncanny fluttering rise in his chest. He grabs his phone to text Kevin — the one person that would be completely  _ down  _ to help him with this crazy plan — and he's midway through typing his message when someone opens the gym door, making him look up. 

It's just Jason.

“Hey man,” the other redhead says, sitting on one of the benches. He's in his regular clothes, so this is probably not a casual meeting. “Betty told me you'd be here. I just thought I'd come to check if you're really feeling better.” 

“Yeah, J.” Archie puts his phone away, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He's thankful that his cheeks are flushed from the physical effort — Cheryl probably didn't tell her brother anything about the lake house, but Archie  _ is  _ a bit embarrassed around Jason anyway. He doesn't know how to say:  _ hey, I'm sorry I rejected your sister and now things are fucked up. _ “I'm alright. Thanks for caring.” 

“We're facing Walter Payton in our next game, just after Thanksgiving.” Jason sighs. “They're our biggest rival. I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, but we'll need the team to be—”

“One-hundred percent,” Archie says immediately. “I won't let you down, bro. I was  _ so  _ honored you guys thought I deserved the jacket, really. We'll kick their asses.” Jason nods, smiling a bit, but his eyes drop to the floor — he's suddenly very serious again. He's always been like that, it's true, but today he just looks tired. “Are  _ you  _ okay?” 

Before Jason can answer him, someone  _ else  _ walks in. Archie's jaw clenches instantly when he finds Reggie by the door, and Reggie heaves out an annoyed breath once he sees Archie. He's also not wearing gym clothes, so at least he isn't  _ staying _ . “J. Where's your sister? I need to talk to her.”

Archie can't help the confused frown that forms on his face, but Jason doesn't seem too bothered. “You know, she has this thing called a  _ phone _ ,” he answers, sounding more bitter than he ever did. “Why don't you just try that?”

“Yeah, right. Whatever.” Reggie shoves his hands in his pockets, and seems ready to thankfully  _ leave _ , when he turns around again. “You're playing the next game, right?” he asks, and it takes Archie a whole second to realize Reggie's talking to  _ him _ .

“Yeah,” he answers, his voice firmer than it needed to be. Jason has straightened up his back a little, probably ready to come between them if necessary, but Reggie doesn't seem to be in a fighting mood, since he simply presses his lips together and nods.

“Cool.”

Reggie just steps away, and Archie feels strangely discomposed for hating him so much when he was essentially doing nothing wrong. But the truth is that Archie still doesn't know what happened to Veronica on Halloween — he hasn't asked her, since she didn't ask anything specific about  _ his  _ meltdown — but she had  _ Reggie Fucking Mantle _ written all over her tearful eyes that day. Archie is not having it.

“What was that all about?” He looks back at Jason.

“He knows we need you to win against the Cubs. The Mustangs are really important to him. I might be the captain, but I don't care half as much as he does.”

“That's not true. You're a great captain.”

“A sports scholarship would mean the world to Reggie. For me—” He shrugs. “Well, Ivy League doesn't favor athletes, so even if I got one, it would just be a waste of time. My parents decide everything about my life, so…”

Archie remembers Veronica's speech from earlier, and his own musings about it with Ms. Baker, and he suddenly feels a bit guilty again for thinking his parents were the biggest assholes trying to protect him from Geraldine when all they were doing was saving him from himself. “Sorry, man.”

“I just can't understand why all of a sudden they think  _ Cheryl  _ deserves to visit colleges around the country and choose what she wants to study, where she wants to live. Meanwhile, if I even mention any of my plans, hell breaks loose,” he sighs. “Did I ever tell you that Polly refused to live in New York and study at Columbia just so she could stay near me? I just wanted to do the same, you know? Stay in Chicago, actually  _ be  _ with her, work with  _ anything  _ except my family's stupid company.”

Archie doesn't really know how to answer to that, so he just twists his mouth into a sympathetic shape. “Sucks.”

“Anyway,” Jason places both hands on his own knees, getting up. “At least they're all  _ gone,  _ and I can spend my weekend in peaceful solitude. Maybe I'll even cook dinner for Polly, who knows.”

Archie's lips part slightly — so Thornhill would be almost completely Blossom-free this weekend? His premature idea just started shaping up. “Uh— or maybe you could, you know? Throw one epic party?”

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey peeps! quick author's note _again_ because it's almost 2am and i need to go to bed, but i just wanted to do it after posting this chapter, so i'll come back to update this note and finish answering your lovely comments from the last chapter in the morning. thank you so much for the support, always.
> 
> song in the beginning is coldplay's "x&y", and the one that ronnie sings is dashboard confessional, "don't wait" (personal fave).


	22. Chapter 22

_i don't need empires; they'd mean nothing_

 

 

 

**_i'm sorry. i love you._ **

The text from Cheryl comes when Veronica is in a Michael Kors store on Friday, trying on the dresses Hermione picked for her. Veronica sighs — she hasn't answered any of the questions about California or why she didn't tell Veronica she'd be going that week, but at least it's something.

Veronica throws her phone back in her purse without replying and looks back at her reflection in the mirror. She's wearing a black sequin dress with a pleated skirt and a slight plunge neckline. The seamstress pulls here and there, adjusting the fabric towards the perfect fit. In the reflection she can see her mother sitting on a renaissance sofa, sipping on a glass of champagne, and paying a little more attention to her phone than to her daughter.

“What do you think, Mrs. Lodge? Should the hem be a little higher?”

“I think that's high enough, Terry,” Hermione says, glancing up from her phone. “You should get her some heels? Let's have a full picture.”

Terry agrees, leaving the dressing room for a moment. Veronica smooths her skirt down, feeling the little beads softly scratching her fingers, and smiles unhappily at her reflection. It shouldn't be like this — she should've been shopping for dresses at Nordstrom with her girlfriends and tasting blood orange martinis for her party, having _fun_. And as much as she appreciated Betty's enthusiasm to find some nice brunch place for them on Sunday, it won’t be the same thing.

“You look beautiful, mija.” Hermione must catch the sadness on her face, because she soon puts her phone down and approaches Veronica, standing behind her, placing both hands on her daughter's arms. “Don't you think so?”

“The dress is nice.” Veronica nods, trying not to sound so gloomy. “It's _shiny_ , though — is it even appropriated for the dinner you're taking me to?”

“As if I'd let you wear anything inappropriate.” Hermione touches the edges of Veronica's hair. “About tomorrow, are you taking Reginald as your date?”

Veronica frowns, confused. She didn't even know she could take a date. And even if she knew — why on Earth would her mother think she'd be taking _Reggie_? “Mom. Reggie and I have been broken up for almost six months, now,” she says, bluntly.

“Oh, I know,” Hermione says, but her tone makes Veronica wonder if she _really_ knew that, or if she had forgotten about it for a minute. “I was just wondering if you two have talked things out.”

“ _Why?_ ”

It's the only question to be asked. Her parents liked Reggie enough because he was a Mantle and that meant good business with Ricky Mantle, his investment banker of a father. But besides that, it's not like they ever _cared_ about him in any other way, or even asked why he and Veronica broke up. And the way Hermione just _drops_ this question, so casually — it makes her even more tired.

The look on her mother's face is _quasi-_ unreadable — she really does pretend to be a little offended by Veronica's incisiveness. “Mija, solo estoy preguntando.”

“No, we didn't,” Veronica replies, quite sure of the annoyance in her voice. She wishes she had the kind of relationship with her mother that would allow her to tell him about Reggie loving her and her staying as far away as possible from him ever since. She also wishes she had the guts to say that everything was their fault, from beginning to end. “And we won't. I didn't know I _could_ bring a date.”

“Oh, there's a plus-one in your invitation. But I feel like it's better if you don't take anyone.” Hermione smiles at her through the mirror. “Mayor Harris' son, Elio, just came back to Chicago after spending a year abroad. He's a little older than you, but a dashing young man. He might be really happy to have some company during dinner.”

Veronica feels her lips part as she stares at her mother's reflection. She doesn't allow herself to look surprised for more than a split second, but there's a sudden and terrible pain in her chest, like heartburn. Her parents don't need her to _stand by them_. They need her as some form of eye-candy to distract some preppy, _I-speak-five-languages_ , stupid politician _son._

She's fighting the sudden urge to cry — wouldn't that be such a _little girl_ thing to do? — and the bitter taste in her mouth. “This sounds lovely,” she says, clenching her jaw ever so slightly, smiling politely, careful not to oversell it.

The joke is on her, she thinks.

 

 

 

 

November 17th comes with a high, orange sun after so many cloudy and rainy days, and Lake Michigan's waters are blue as the sky, even though it's getting colder and colder each day. Consuelo knocks lightly on her door in the morning, carrying a breakfast tray that has a pink candle stuck into a raspberry muffin, and wishes her _Feliz Cumpleaños, Miss Veronica,_ placing the tray on her nightstand and proceeding to open the curtains, letting the sunlight bathe her room.

“Gracias, Consuelo.” Veronica smiles a bit, sitting up slowly.

“Tienes que pedir un deseo.”

She reaches out for the muffin once she realizes her maid is expectant — as her eyes focus on the fragile little flame glowing from the candle, she thinks back to other birthdays: her parents in bed with her when she was a child; she, Cheryl, and Betty drinking syrupy cocktails on her fifteenth; her sweet-sixteen extravaganza, pop beats, glassy eyes, and glittery makeup; Reggie's mouth on her inner thigh last year.

She thinks about what she'd wish for. She wants Cheryl to come back before tomorrow morning. She wants the gala to be canceled. She wants to be with people who appreciate her and who don't want to use her as a pawn in their games.

Veronica blows out her candle but wishes for nothing. Consuelo seems happy, leaving the room and telling her to enjoy her birthday breakfast. Veronica puts down the muffin and reaches out for her phone. There is nothing new from Cheryl, but Betty did send her a string of pink hearts and party hats freakishly early; Kevin sent her a picture of half-naked Chris Hemsworth and a **_hope you get some, girl!_** , making Veronica laugh a little.

In the living room, there's a huge bouquet of white roses and a velvet jewelry box waiting for her on the coffee table. She feels her heart tighten as she reaches out for the card, feeling the thick, expensive cream paper on her fingertips. 

_The dress will be delivered around 3. Joe is stopping by to do your hair and makeup around 5. We have a busy day ahead so we expect you at the Hilton 8 sharp. Andre will take you._

_Felicidades, amor._

_— Daddy_

Opening the jewelry box to find a pair of pearl and diamond drop earrings, one carat of white gold for each year she's lived, Veronica feels so far away from the girl who got another shiny thing only at seventeen and adored it, so far away from the girl who loved and worshiped her Daddy so much — the girl who would've done anything for him without thinking it through, without even imagining leather jackets and late night whispers about money.

She can't, in good conscience, stand by her parents. But she can't _run_ from them either — the only option is to _face_ them.

The idea crawls inside her like a serpent — isn't it ironic? — and she can't seem to get her head around it. So, she eats her birthday muffin, showers, and gets dressed. She pays Andre the customary two-hundred dollar bribe and makes phone calls in the backseat to remake all of her parents' plans for that day.

At eight-thirty in the evening, having ignored all of Hiram and Hermione's calls for the past forty minutes, Veronica gets out the town car in front of the Hilton hotel and slides yet another two-hundred dollars into Andre's hand as he tells her to have fun, and that he'll have the car ready whenever she wants.

“Miss Lodge,” the host slightly bows his head when she tells him her name, “your parents are expecting you at the Mayor's table.” He announces, leading her through the International Ballroom, which is decorated with white flowers and red and blue bows, a tasteful reminder of the American flag. Veronica walks in her four-inch heeled pumps, her head up and shoulders squared.

“Mom, Daddy, I'm sorry I'm late,” she says as she approaches the Mayor's table, all heads turning to her. She bites the inside of her mouth to prevent herself from smiling at their shocked expressions. “I assume you remember Forsythe Jones?”

“It's Jughead,” he says besides her, reaching out for a handshake, all dressed up in a tailored suit and beanieless for the evening, black hair slicked back. “Happy to see you again, Mr. Lodge, Mrs. Lodge.”

Hiram shakes his hand back, regaining composure a little faster than Hermione, who's looking at her with parted lips and piercing brown eyes. Veronica lifts up an eyebrow. “I'm so happy you allowed me to bring a date, Mom.”

 

 

 

 

When Archie threw the idea on the table, he was thinking about inviting a few people from school, ordering some pizza, and buying some beer or maybe wine, background music low enough so they could actually have a conversation, and maybe buying a frosted cake with eighteen candles. But then Jason's eyes lit up, and they ran the idea by Moose, who ended up telling Kevin, who was shoving Archie's shoulder and calling him a _traitor, how can you plan a surprise party without me? —_ and that's how everything went a little out of control and he was soon making calls to DJs Jason had on speed-dial and a bartender from God knows which fancy bar without even knowing what to say.

That was, of course, until Betty found out about their plan and took the matters into her own hands, huffing that if _someone_ could throw a surprise party for Veronica, it was her, her best friend who also has the planning skills. Archie was then stripped of all responsibilities — and on Saturday, his only task was to _show up and look pretty_.

He's intending to do exactly that when, around four in the afternoon, Betty calls him and summons him to Thornhill. Betty says she has to hang the fairy-lights, and while Polly did go to help, all she’s done for the past hour is lock herself with Jason in his room.

Archie throws on a white T-shirt, jeans, and a dark blue, knitted sweater — the outfit he was planning to wear to the party — and catches the 151 bus heading north, going down a few stops before reaching the Pembrooke. Thornhill is on the same avenue facing the lakeshore, just three or four blocks before. Archie goes up to the penthouse — it looks a lot different than it did the first time he was there, furniture still in place and the late afternoon glow coming through the large windows. He hadn't even realized that _Chez Blossom_ had a whole outdoor area that day, separated by a floor-length glass door from the main living room.

“I told you to show up and _look pretty,_ ” he hears Kevin say from the folding ladder, a string of fairy lights tangled in his hand. “You just look lazy.”

“Hi to you too,” Archie scoffs, looking around with his hands in his pockets. It seems like they still have a lot of work to do. Kevin doesn't look all dressed up either — he's just wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and there's a bead of sweat on his right temple. “What do you need me for, Betts?”

Betty, who is sitting on the floor filling mason jars with _more_ fairy lights and some crumpled cellophane paper, immediately gets up once she sees him, brushing off the dust from her jeans. “I need to go, actually. I have to stop by the caterer to make some payments and then I need to get the cake at Sweet Mandy's, and—” She takes a deep breath, her cheeks turning red as if she's a little nervous. “I just need all these lights hung up and working, and for you to be around when they bring everything. V and I will come around ten. That's when she's leaving the gala, apparently.”

“We're on it. Everything will work out alright,” Archie reassures, smiling a little. Betty uncurls her hands from fists — that horrible habit — and nods her head in agreement. She tells them she'll text them when the time is right and leaves the apartment with determination to check every item off on her to-do list.

Archie takes off his sweater and starts helping Kevin hang the lights — it's really a much harder job than it looks, requiring a lot of patience and tape. Betty, according to Kevin, had banished Jason's idea of paying a lot of money to hire people to do that, but after they almost rip off a piece of expensive ceiling plaster, Archie starts to wonder if they should have.

In the end, they manage to do everything that Betty asked of them. They move chairs and tables to make more space for the guests; the caterer delivers hors-d'oeuvres, which they distribute into expensive crystal bowls and trays from the Blossom's collection; they even decorate the exterior space with some of the shiny mason jars. When it's all ready, Archie and Kevin are sweaty and tired. They throw themselves onto the fluffy red couch, staying like this until there's movement — Jason appears from the more private part of the penthouse, shirtless and relaxed, followed by Betty's sister, Polly Cooper.

Archie has met Polly once or twice during his whole time in Chicago — she normally attends the Mustangs games, and she looks a lot like Betty, blonde and green-eyed. Polly says hello and goodbye to Archie and Kevin, walking towards the door, and the way she touches Jason's face affectionately and kisses him before leaving makes Archie a little _jealous_ somehow. He feels like he misses this, having someone that cares about him _that way_. He misses it even though he's never really had it.

“Guys, do you want a beer?” Jason asks once his girlfriend is gone, already on his way to the bar.

“Maybe later. We should _shower_ ,” Kevin says. “Did you bring another set of clothes, Arch?”

“Uh,” Archie runs a hand through his fairly sweaty hair, “no.”

" _What?”_

“I didn't think we'd be moving furniture and _sweating_!” Archie protests, making Jason chuckle and Kevin roll his eyes dramatically.

“Do I have to fix everything for you?” Kevin sighs. “I suppose you can fit into some of JJ's clothes. They are probably better than your small-town wardrobe, anyway.”

 

 

 

Once Archie showers in the guest bathroom and gets out smelling like expensive, rich Shea butter shower _cream_ , Kevin has picked clothes from Jason's closet that he thinks will look good on him. It's easier said than done — Jason is slightly thinner than him, and most of his clothes end up too tight on the shoulders or chest, which narrows down their options, leaving Kevin incredibly frustrated.

“Maybe we should just try a T-shirt.” Archie shrugs a little, tired of trying on dress shirts that don't fit properly. At least Kevin is allowing him to wear his own jeans (and Archie is glad, because he did put on his nicest, dark-wash denim for the occasion).

“ _No_ , this is an important day,” Kevin says, as he studies the last shirt in the pile, a simple black button-up that's perfectly pressed. “I mean, you're basically the whole mastermind behind this whole thing, you should look your best for when the birthday girl finds out and starts swooning.”

Archie feels his cheeks involuntarily heat up, as usual. He takes the shirt Kevin hands him. “That's not why— I just think Veronica is an amazing person, and she deserves a good birthday, that's all. I think life has been a little harsh on her lately,” he starts, pulling on the shirt. It fits a little better on his arms and shoulders than the others. “And you all did so much more than I did, so—”

“Oh, _of course_.” Kevin watches with his arms crossed in front of his chest as Archie fastens the buttons. “You can be nonchalant about it all you want, but you and I both know this means something. How long has it been? You know, since you realized?”

 _Eighty-six days?_ Even with all that happened between them, the drama, the heat, the misunderstandings, and the friendship — Archie thinks he's known it from the very start. But that's not why he had this idea — it's not why he wants her to have a good birthday and to smile and feel that people care about her. He just wants her to be happy, first and foremost. “It's not like that,” he lies to Kevin even though he knows he's horrible at it.

Kevin rolls his eyes again, coming closer to Archie to undo the top two buttons of the shirt. It actually fits — still a little tighter than he's used to, but at least he can move freely. “Okay, you look hot. Since you’re _clearly_ not into V, any chances you’re into me? You don’t even have to throw me a surprise party.”

 

 

 

 

Veronica sips on her glass of brut Veuve Clicquot, feeling satisfied with her mischief — the reaction is exactly how she imagined, awkwardness surrounding the main table of that event: her parents clear discomfort, the Mayor and his family's unawareness, and Jughead's smug smile as they go through the complicated silverware and glasses of wine that go perfectly with the food, champagne in-between.

Jughead is no stranger to this environment — he has grown up in it too, which is why she knows he won't embarrass her in the etiquette department, and he does clean up well. She brought him as her date for two reasons: to show her parents that she's not _as_ in the dark as they think she is and to get them ill at ease with provocative questions that they can't answer.

“So, Elio?” Jughead starts, casually, between a fork bite, and Veronica almost smiles against the rim of her glass, lifting eyebrows to her mother’s withering glare. The Mayor's son, Elio, is about to become twenty — he deferred his acceptance to attend Yale so he could spend one _sabbatical year_ abroad. He looks good, as all the boys in his social circle, with sharp cheekbones and an abundance of confidence. Veronica, however, is bored just looking at him. “Veronica told me you spent one year abroad, Europe was it? Did you have some occupation?”

“Mainly just traveling around,” Elio says, pressing the napkin to his mouth. “Everything is so close, and the trains are comfortable. I managed to see a lot.”

“That must have been expensive,” Jughead points out. Veronica feels her father shifting a little in the seat next to her. “I mean, if you were just traveling for a year without contributing with income, I assume Mr. Harris here has paid for all of it?”

“It was a graduation gift.” The Mayor smiles politely, reaching out a hand to touch his son's shoulder. “My boy here deserves everything that's good in the world. Did you know that he speaks four languages?”

Jughead almost chuckles, and Veronica kicks him lightly under the table. “I really didn't. I just wondered, since political office is not supposed to get you rich enough so you can pay for a year abroad without—”

“Mr. Harris is not only an excellent politician,” Hiram intervenes, and Veronica knows that voice. It means that he's trying to find a way to regain control, that his brain is working non-stop to regain the upper hand. Is this the part where he calls Mr. Harris a _businessman_? “He's also a praised economist, as I imagine you know. Financial planning is definitely not an issue for men like him.”

“Of course not, Daddy,” Veronica chimes in, making all eyes at the table travel to her. She has read a lot about the Mayor and is ready to make comments here and there. “He's so good financially that Chicago has never seen such economic growth before — new investments, industries bouncing back, a lot of construction work, thankfully. Helps pays the bills at our home, too.” She smiles, charmingly. “One of the many reasons why we want you reelected, I'm sure.”

“And Lodge Industries support means a lot to me and to our city.” Mr. Harris smiles back with his campaign-smile, the one that Elio reproduces perfectly. “We'd still be a den of _Mafiosi_ and violent labor unions if it weren't for strong-willed businessmen and _women_ ,” he adds quickly, looking at Hermione, “like the ones in your family, Miss Lodge.”

“The city has evolved a great deal, that's true,” Veronica says in agreement, taking yet another sip of her drink, seeing Jughead's lips curl up in her peripheral vision. “We are now in the hands of the cartels and outlaw biker gangs, but—”

“Jughead,” Hiram interrupts her. “How's your father? It's been quite a while since I've spoken to FP.”

“Well,” Jughead starts, setting his fork down on his china plate, “he's still unemployed. I'm hoping Mr. Harris’s great plan for the city's growth can help us change that scenario.”

“That's really a shame, young man,” Mr. Harris says, offering false empathy. “If you're already eighteen, I can only ask you to vote for me, and I promise that I'll do my best to—”

“Jughead, here, is a part of the south side community, Mayor,” Veronica comments. They can't ignore Elio's grimace when he hears that, and Mr. Harris himself seems a little uneasy. “It hasn't seen a lot of progress in the past couple of years, isn't that right, Jug? All the violence and the—”

“Well, it's not easy to fix something that has been broken for a while,” Hiram interrupts again. Veronica grinds her teeth together. “What about your mother, Jughead? Is she settled in Toledo? Is your little sister liking her new school? A private school— expensive little thing for an unemployed man.”

There's a beat of silence. Veronica takes in a deep breath and forgets to exhale — Hiram is looking at Jughead with somewhat defiant eyes, and she _knows_ what that means. _Fuck._

“Uh,” Jughead swallows hard, his Adam's apple going down and up with the movement, “will you excuse me for a second?”

He leaves the napkin on the table and gets up, without looking at anyone, not even at Veronica, who feels her cheeks heat up. “ _Daddy_ ,” she finally breathes out. Her mother is smiling at her through her glass of wine, and Veronica feels a little lightheaded. “Excuse me.”

 

 

 

 

She finds Jughead just outside the hotel's main doors, and he's running a hand through his black hair. It's cold out, and Veronica shivers a little, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  “What was that all about?”

“Your dad knows we know,” Jughead says, heaving out a breath, “about the Serpents. Or at least he knows _I know_ where the income in _my house_ is coming from.”

“Do you think the Mayor is with him? You know. Having Dad control the Serpents so they terrorize the city given some warped-logic?”

“I don't know, Veronica.” He shrugs, not really looking at her. “He's sure he outsmarted us, though, so that might be some advantage. I don't know.”

Veronica bites the inside of her mouth, careful to enter these waters, even though she knows they've become closer in the past couple of months. “What he said about your mom and Toledo— is that true?”

“Yes,” she notices Jughead clenching his jaw, and he sniffles a little, “she took Jellybean and left us before the summer started. She told me she'd be back by August, but she's never returned. I know they've enrolled JB into this Catholic school and— and by the looks of it, your Dad might be the one paying for it just as the Serpents are the ones keeping a roof over my head.” He sounds tired. “My dad he's been— he's been drinking a lot. He's always driving that motorcycle in such a _state,_ and my mom is just gone and—” Jughead presses a hand against his eyes. Veronica feels a little nervous; she shouldn't be the one listening to this. “Is it going to be too bad if I don't go back inside?”

Veronica shakes her head. She thinks about Betty and the text still unanswered on her phone, _celebratory milkshakes after your gala thing?_ and her stomach hurts. “I'll call you a Lyft,” she says, opening her clutch to get her phone and do exactly that. “Jug… You need to talk to Betty,” she blurts out, her lower lip shaking a little. “Not today, not about _everything_ , but your mom going away with your sister and your dad — she'll be there for you. I know she will.”

He nods slowly. They coexist in a comfortable silence until the car arrives, and he squeezes her arm, wishing her a quiet _happy birthday_ before leaving, the car going south on Michigan Avenue. Veronica stares at it until it becomes just another car, and she gets her phone again, texting Andre to come and get her. There's no way she'll go back inside to be slaughtered by her parents.

 

 

 

 

In the backseat of the town car, Veronica skims through the _happy birthday_ messages she's received so far but only answers Betty, telling her that she's up for milkshakes and that she's already coming back from the gala. It's barely ten in the evening, but this day has already lasted forever. And as much as she just wanted to take a hot shower and _crash_ , she's not gonna miss the opportunity to spend some time with her best friend over high-calorie drinks.

She feels selfish for wanting that, because Betty has _no idea_ why her boyfriend wasn't answering her texts the whole evening. She also feels awful for using Jughead to get to her parents and losing that game. She feels like she's wrecking everything, _everything,_ and maybe — maybe something _did_ strain her relationship with Cheryl forever, since there's no other reason for the redhead to go away _just like that_ without saying anything but an  _i love you_ that didn't mean all that much since she wasn't _there_.

They pull over in front of the Pembrooke, and Smithers comes to greet her as usual. He wishes her a happy birthday as he opens the building's large main doors, and Veronica is a little surprised to find Betty already waiting in the foyer, in a light pink overcoat and with her hair down in waves. “V!” she says, chirpy, coming to hug Veronica. “Happy birthday!”

Veronica realizes is the first genuine hug she's gotten today, and she melts a little into it, holding Betty back tightly. “It's so good to see you,” she whispers, taking a deep breath. Betty smiles with her glossed lips. “I'll just come up and change real quick before we—”

“No, you look amazing! I know it's a little overdressed for milkshakes, but we should get going. I promised Jason I'd pick him up since he has nothing planned for tonight— he's with Polly at Thornhill.”

“ _Excuse me?_ This is a custom Michael Kors dress. I am not wearing this to _Lou's._ I'm sure Jason and Polly can wait for twenty-minutes.”

 

 

 

 

Well, she doesn't take twenty minutes to get ready. Veronica takes forty minutes to get changed into a red turtleneck shirt that fits her in all the right places, paired up with a black short skirt and thigh high black boots, and to let her hair down from the complicated updo she's worn for the gala so it falls in big soft curls down her shoulders and back. By the time she meets Betty in the lobby again, the blonde girl seems a little distressed and even a bit tired, her lip-gloss worn-out.

“Can we go now?” she asks, almost yawning.

They take Betty's car down N Lake Shore Drive — it's really just a short distance between the two buildings, no more than four blocks. When they pull over in front of Thornhill, Betty calls Jason to let him know they're there, and it looks like the Blossom twin wants them to come up. “We took so long that Polly fell asleep, and now we have to wait for her to re-apply her makeup.”

Veronica shrugs. “It's still my birthday until midnight.”

Going up Thornhill's elevator with Betty is like falling back into another time; when they were little and always eager to have sleepovers at Cheryl's and figuring out secrets from the Blossom's penthouse, or even more recent memories, sophomore year when Reggie and Trev Brown, Betty's first boyfriend, would come with them and they'd play drinking games with Cheryl and Jason.

There's a part of Veronica that wonders if this isn't a carefully crafted plan by Betty _and Cheryl_ — wonders if the elevator doors won't open and she'll find out that the redhead is just playing a big prank on her all week long, that she'll be able to celebrate with both of her best friends, like old, better times.

But the elevator doors open when they reach the penthouse, and—

“SURPRISE!”

Veronica's jaw falls to the ground. Thornhill looks like _the sky_ with so many fairy-lights hanging from the ceiling, a bunch of white little lights. Her heart starts beating so fast once she realizes that, _oh, my God_ , her friends _did that_. She feels Betty's hands on her shoulders and laughs when Kevin approaches her with open arms, giving her the best of hugs — and then there's Josie, and Ginger, Tina — _Val_ , who basically screams and squeezes her so tightly, saying _happy birthday, love!_ in her chirpy beautiful voice — and no, Cheryl isn't there, but Jason, sweet JJ is there to greet her and almost lift her off the floor, and Midge Klump, Moose and—

Different from the girl wearing a custom dress in the back of a town car and feeling guilty and abandoned, _this girl_ feels overwhelmed and appreciated, engulfed by a warm sensation of _home._ For a minute, between hugs and _thank yous_ , Veronica wants to feel _so grateful_ , but the other girl is still there, somewhere deep under her skin, making her feel guilty for lying and pushing people away.

And then, Archie Andrews appears right in front of her, wishing her happy birthday and holding her so close, and suddenly, his arms around her and his scent are the only things she can feel.

 

 

 

 

Apparently, they were just waiting for Veronica to arrive to play some music — it blasts through the speakers, making the walls tremble a little. The party is full of people that Veronica doesn't know, but basically, _everyone_ she does know is there too. The Vixens are doing shots, but she decides not to drink too much (her chest is still a little bubbly from all the brittle champagne drinking at the gala) and spends most of the first hour thanking everyone and receiving compliments on her (professionally done) makeup.

She finds Kevin leaning against the back of the couch and bumps her shoulder with his. “I can't believe you did all of this!”

“Well,” Kevin shrugs, putting one arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze, “hanging _all the lights_ was really hard, so I'm intending to get so drunk that I'll pass out and no one will make me _take them off_. There's so much duct tape that I'm pretty sure the Blossoms will be coerced into a renovation.”

Veronica laughs. She knows that Betty probably _made it happen_ , but there's no way she'd have the idea by herself, especially involving Thornhill and inviting all these people. “No, Kev, _really_. I don't deserve this, I'm— thank you for the initiative,” she says, humbly.

“You _do_ deserve it, but as much as I wish it was, this wasn't my idea.” He sips from his red solo cup. Veronica frowns. “It was Archie,” Kevin says, nodding towards another corner of the room, where Archie is leaning against a wall, laughing at some tale Steve seems to be telling with a lot of enthusiasm.

 _It was Archie_. Veronica realizes she didn't need Kevin to point him out because she already knew where he was — she always knows where he is. Somehow, her eyes are always drawn to him.

 _It was Archie_ who planned this. Archie Andrews, who she's guided through different corridors in this very same penthouse, who tasted like rum and lime when they kissed in the dark, hidden closet that held so many of her good memories, who's been in her life for such a small amount of time and _yet_ , who seems to know her so well, to pick up all the little details that she's always trying to hide.

 _It was Archie,_ who held her by her locker only two days ago, who she somehow _trusted_ because she wasn't afraid that he'd use anything against her. Archie, with his laugh that took over his whole body, and his damp red hair falling into his eyes after getting stuck in the rain with her.

Veronica's mind is flooded with images of Archie all of a sudden — car rides and guitar chords, coffee and blue shirts, the deep cry of the saxophone in a food-truck line, and just a lot of _comfort_ that came against her will but that she was so desperate for.

As if he knows that she's been looking at him, Archie's gaze finds hers, and he's still smiling at Steve's story., Butbut when his golden brown eyes find hers, there's a slight _shift_ in his smile. It becomes smaller, although more genuine, more _hers_. He looks away soon, and Veronica's lips part slightly. The music is loud and thumping in her ears just as her heart is slamming against her ribcage.

 _It was Archie._ It _is_ Archie.

“Are you okay?” Kevin asks, probably wondering about her prolonged silence. Veronica realizes her breath is all messed up, and runs a hand across the back of her neck. It's warm. 

“Yeah. He did a nice thing,” she manages to say under her breath.

 

 

 

 

It's around one in the morning — officially no longer Veronica's birthday — when the party starts to suffocate Archie a little. It took a lot of effort to convince his mom that he _could_ get out of this party unharmed, and Ms. Baker made him promise that he'd leave if he felt _any_ sort of discomfort. He's also supposed to be back home before the clock strikes two, but he doesn't really feel like going home just yet.

Because, _well_. As much as he's already felt her melt into his arms when she arrived and seen her big, pretty smile take over her face once she realized the surprise, Veronica still hasn't — they haven't interacted all that much. They've exchanged some looks here and there, and she gave him his favorite smile (the little one) more than once. They even engaged in an interesting conversation with Kevin for a while, but it hasn't been _enough_.

So, when the music starts to be a little too loud and the number of people around him starts to get a little overwhelming, Archie crosses the glass door and goes outside, the cold air from the night being welcomed into his lungs.

The terrace is a bit darker, relying only on the lightning from Betty's DIY mason jars spread all over the place. There are some people out there, smoking cigarettes, but no one he really knows. Archie leans his forearms on the railing, peering out at the city lights reflecting on the lake's surface. As usual, that U2 song comes to his mind, and he hums it to himself — in some ways, everything about Chicago seems more like home, after everything.

Archie's lost in his thoughts for some minutes, feeling lighter than he's been for the past couple of weeks — no matter what happens, today has been a good day. It didn't rain. The surprise worked out as he wanted it to. Veronica is happy too. She's _glowing._ Today has been a good day. He might be happy, too.

“I'm at the Blossom's,” is what she's saying when he realizes she's there too, her voice coming from behind him. Archie turns around and realizes Veronica is sitting on one of the loungers, her legs crossed and her phone against her ear. “I don't know, Mom.” She sounds a little annoyed. “Well, what did you expect? I'm not going to be your— _whatever_ , Mom. Don't wait up.”

He waits until she's hung up the phone to get her attention, hands in his pockets as he gently pokes her hanging foot with his knee. “Hey,” he says, smiling down at her. Veronica seems caught off guard once she sees him, even a little disconcerted. “Everything alright?”

She inhales sharply and then shakes her head as if to whisk away a bad thought. “Everything is great.” Archie knows she's lying, his eyebrows traveling towards his hairline. Veronica slightly rolls her eyes slightly, and Archie takes it as an invitation to sit down next to her. “No, really. Everything _is_ great,” she reassures, her voice firmer, looking over at him. “Whatever is awful will have to wait until the party is over.”

Archie chuckles. “Did you like it?” he asks, tilting his head towards all the noise going on inside.

“You're kidding, right?” Veronica looks at him through thick lashes. She looks so beautiful today — she looks beautiful _always_ , but today, in particular, the way her makeup is done and the bright red shirt that somehow makes her hair and her eyes even darker, she looks like someone out of a song from the eighties. She smiles at him with the tiniest curl of her also red lips. “It's amazing. This saved my day in ways you cannot imagine. The lights. Everyone's here too. I am speechless.”

Archie feels his cheeks heat up despite the cold air around them. “ _Literally_ everyone is here. The original plan was to bring in only your friends but… Apparently, the invitation on Facebook was public, and here we are.” She laughs. “ _No_ , really, I hope someone sticks around to clean up tomorrow.”

“A public invite?” Veronica makes a face. “Wow, I wonder how you still managed to surprise me.”

“I guess that's what happens when you're out attending political galas and sitting down with businessmen.” He shrugs, glancing at her. Veronica's smile fades a little when he says that, and her gaze falls down to the ground. Archie clears his throat — _whatever is awful has to wait_ , that's what she wanted. “It's just sad that you, you know, left me on read.”

She frowns a bit. “I did not!”

“You did too!”

Veronica narrows her eyes at him, getting her phone in faux-offense. She opens the messaging app and scrolls down with the screen turned to him — Archie watches as she searches for his chat and opens it, looking at him with defiant eyes. He's a little surprised to see that she _did_ answer the _happy birthday_ text he'd sent her a while ago, before the party had even started. The last text was from her, just a **_thank you_** and a purple heart, followed by **_will u be at brunch tomorrow?_** that he had never seen.

Archie looks at her with slightly widened eyes. “Fuck.”

“Don't you defy me again, Archiekins.” Veronica looks at him pointedly. “I'll let this one slide, though, just because _really_.” She sighs. “This party is the nicest thing someone has ever done for me,” she says, her voice reaching a lower, softer pitch, “and I know it was you.”

“It wasn't _just_ me, though,” Archie says — he feels stupid, even a little embarrassed, like when he had his first crush in elementary school and his Dad found out and kept teasing him about it. “JJ, Kevin, Betty, we all— everyone was so happy to do this, you know? They didn't even blink when I came up with the idea.”

“ _Still_ ,” Veronica looks him in the eye, “it means a lot to me.”

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “After everything you've done for me these past couple of weeks…” he starts, aware that she has _no idea._ Well — maybe she has a _small_ idea of how he feels about her, but she doesn't know her support meant the world to him. He's been thinking about it a lot, since his last session with Ms. Baker: time, space and gravity. Maybe he's not ready, but there's something else telling him that he _is_ ready, that he _has been_ ready for Veronica even before he met her. Heaving out a breath, he also stares into her eyes. “It means a lot to me too.”

Veronica smiles, and that draws Archie's attention from her eyes to her lips. He lets his eyes linger there for just a second, and feels his heart beating at the base of his aching throat. They're so _alone_ now, just them, her smile, and the fading lights and smoke being blown into the air by strangers.

Archie takes a deep breath — and he muses about being brave and just _being_ , before his mind is clear of everything and all he can do is lean in and kiss her.

Veronica gasps in surprise, but doesn't pull back. Archie presses his lips to hers and his hand is suddenly cupping her cheek and her jaw. He remembers kissing her before, in this very same apartment, but this, this is _different_. This is _more_. It could turn into something _huge_ , something important, something worth writing songs about for the rest of his life.

She lifts up a hand and places it over the one that's on her cheek, squeezing his fingers, and her mouth parts a little, allowing his tongue to slip into it with ease. She tastes like minty toothpaste and the buttery texture of her lipstick, and Archie turns a little to face her, his other hand slipping around her waist, feeling the soft cotton under his palm, to bring her closer, to—

His touch must awaken something in her, because she makes a little sound into his mouth, almost a whimper, and Archie pulls back slowly. He opens his eyes to look into hers, trying to read whatever's written there — she seems puzzled, still holding his hand against her face, but the smile has long faded. There's a soft crease between her eyebrows. Archie swallows hard, letting his eyes travel around her face, and his heart is beating _so fast_.

“Ronnie,” he mutters, his thumb caressing her cheek. _Here, now._ “I want to be with you.”

Time, space and gravity. They all seem to stop suddenly.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT? DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?
> 
> YES, my dear reader. it has happened. it's happening. everyone calm down!
> 
> i guess it's been a long road since the last time, but here we are. there's a lot of important little things for the plot here, the two great LM plots, and well. veronica's birthday is a legendary one, i suppose? at last a party that hasn't ended in tears?
> 
> i know it's been hard to deal with the slow burn, but i really wish from the bottom of my heart that it's going to be worth it. i'll let you guys decide. i love you, i'm so grateful and i hope to talk to you, here or in my tumblr @andsmile! this one came fast, i hope you guys enjoy it. thank you to my partner in crime, nic, for all the support as usual.
> 
> song at the beginning is "empires" by niki & the dove, a song i've been listening to for a long time thinking about this chapter.


	23. Chapter 23

 

_it takes me back to when we started_

 

 

 

_He kissed me._

Her heart is beating to the rhythm of these words resonating inside her. Her brain plays with the sentence, accenting different parts of it — _he_ kissed me. He _kissed_ me. He kissed _me. —_ but she can't make any sense out of it, not when his hands are still on her (one on her waist, the other on her face, his thumb gently running down her cheek, such a small touch), not when her lips are still wet from said kiss.

The world around them is a little out of focus — she can't see anything but his searching eyes and his parted lips, and all that comes out is a strangled _Archie_ , her fingers lightly wrapping around his wrist.

And then he kisses her again.

Veronica is not any more ready for it than she was the first time, but her heart is racing. Her breath is shallow, and the way his lips brush against hers, tongue slipping into her mouth again— it makes her head swirl. Archie's hand leaves her face, finding the back of her head, tangling his fingertips in her hair, his other hand that's still on her waist bringing her closer to him.

She feels lightheaded. She feels _hungry_ , her insides twisting and bringing out some kind of fervor that she can't deal with. Her hands work alone, fingers entwining his hair, pressing his face even closer to hers. She would notice the beat of his heart if hers wasn't so strong, taking over her entire body — _I'm kissing him_ , she thinks then, tongue sliding against his, leaving both short of breath.

 _I'm_ kissing him. I'm _kissing_ him. I'm kissing _him_.

It's not like the closet, or right after in her room. It's not — it's _different_. She feels her blood boiling just the same, but now it's _more_. It's _Archie_. It's not just some handsome stranger in the dark. She _wants_ this now for so many different reasons than she did the first time.

She didn't know who he was back then. She didn't know all the ways he could smile or all the pitches his voice could reach. She still hadn't seen the calluses on his fingers from playing the guitar or felt herself melt into his arms.

And she’s feeling it all over again, as his fingertips press into her scalp, covering her body with goosebumps, the smallest of sounds coming out of his throat as they kiss. His short hair escapes from between her fingers; she lifts up one knee, _almost_ straddling his lap, searching for proximity — Archie’s hand leaves her hair so he can hold her thigh in place, his thumb running over the satin feel of her black tights.

Veronica can’t help but smile, breaking the trance of the kiss, and Archie smiles with her, noses bumping and eyes still closed. “We can’t be here,” she mutters against his grin, pulling away from him a little, touching his face as he follows her mouth with his again.

“Sure we can,” Archie whispers, kissing up her jaw towards her ear, the grip on her thigh even stronger than before. Veronica giggles, placing both hands on his shoulders, intending to push him away from her a little but not being able to when his mouth finds the exact spot where her jaw meets her neck, making a shiver run down her spine.

She scrapes her nails on the back of his neck, breathing in his scent from up close — slightly different than the way he normally smells, but also delicious — her head spinning from how much she’s just now realizing she wants this. And then there’s something vibrating on his leg, next to where her knee is being secured.

“Someone’s calling you,” she says, biting down on her bottom lip when he decides to ignore it and keep on kissing her neck.

“Probably my mom,” he whispers, tongue swirling against her skin. “I have to be home in about half an hour if I don’t want to be grounded for life.”

“Okay,” Veronica finds strength somewhere inside herself to put her feet back on the ground and straighten her posture, making Archie groan in frustration as his lips are forced away from her neck, “but we can’t be here.” She holds his hand, getting up. “C’mon.”

Veronica lets him go as soon as they cross the glass door, into the sea of people dancing to pop beats and drinking colorful cocktails, trying not to look at anyone directly, covering her mouth with one hand so no one will notice the state of her lipstick. Archie follows her, about two steps behind — they’re probably not fooling anyone, but she’s not really interested in being called a slut on the accomplishment board again (whoever’s deed that was).

There’s a stupid, fairytale driven part of her brain that muses about taking him back to that closet, about bringing it to a full circle, finish what they started or something like that. But as soon as they’re both in the hallway, through the door that separates the private portion of the penthouse from the party in the living room, Archie takes the lead, linking their fingers together again and softly glancing at her as he pulls her in the direction of the guest bedroom.

The lights are off, but the curtains are open. The city lights are enough to brighten the room. Veronica expects to be pressed hard between a wall and Archie’s frame, expects to be thrown on the mattress — her body almost buzzes in anticipation. But once they close the door behind them, he just sits on the bed and softly pulls her closer by the hand until her body is between his knees. Their height difference is so great that their faces are almost aligned, his nose brushing up against her chin.

He lets her hand go, placing both of his hands on her waist, just a little lower on the hip, and his touch is so gentle — she feels precious, treasured. It makes her heart start racing again. Veronica bites the inside of her mouth before ducking her head down to capture his lips with hers, tongue finding its way easily against his, and his fingertips press just a little harder into her skin.

They kiss slowly, lingeringly, one of her hands resting on his shoulder for support, the other running through the silk of his red hair, and as much as part of her madly wants him to touch her _more_ , there’s another part of her that just savors the rhythm, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his breath and how it builds up and up.

He smiles again when they break for air, and she realizes his eyes remain closed, thick, brown eyelashes fluttering. “I‘ve been wanting to do this,” he whispers against her lips, his hands going up her back.

She doesn’t know how to respond to that — she wishes she could say _me too_ without giving herself away — so she just kisses him again before she starts smiling too much, and presses against him, the weight of her body forcing him to fall flat on his back, one of her knees between his legs and the other resting on the side of his thigh. He holds her close by the waist, breathing into her mouth.

Instead of straddling him, she decides to lay down beside him, their legs tangled in the middle, mouths still united. Archie lifts up a hand to cup her jaw again, brushing her hair away from her face, and Veronica runs her thumb on his red-stained lower lip when they pull apart one more time, both eyes opened now, different shades of brown melting together.

“Stop looking at me,” she says in the face of his gaze, her cheeks heating up, hiding her face on the mattress beneath them. Archie giggles, coming closer to press a kiss to her shoulder over the soft cotton of her red shirt and then another one up on her ear.

“Impossible,” he whispers, hot breath exploding against her skin, covering her with goosebumps again. She laughs, turning her head a little to face him, lips softly brushing against his.

“Creepy.” She lifts up a hand to touch his cheek, mouth receiving his one more time.

Veronica can’t believe they’re doing this after everything that’s happened between them. She can’t believe that three months ago they hadn’t even met and that now they’re _here_ , completely sober, disappearing into each other’s kiss, on her birthday, hiding from the surprise party he threw for her just because he knew it’d make her happy.

Her fingertips follow the line of his jaw, resting on the bone right behind this ear, and she nibbles on his lower lip, her leg curling around his hip to bring his body closer to hers, his hand pressing hard on her waist, just a _little_ lower. _I want to be with you_ , he had said — and she doesn’t really know what it means for them, but she does know that if he said that again, _right now,_ she’d definitely lose it.

Probably _already_ losing it, Veronica is unable to control the breathy whimpers coming out from her throat as they kiss, trying to bring his body closer to hers, when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket again. “You should get that,” she says, copying what he was doing outside and starting to kiss his jaw, feeling the gentle stubble scratching her lips, “at least to tell her you’re safe. I don’t want you grounded.”

She unhooks the leg around him, letting him fish his phone out of his pocket, her mouth finding a way down his neck once he pulls away so he can answer the phone. She’s planning to swipe her tongue around his pulse point, wanting to taste his skin as he talks to his mom, but when Archie looks at his screen, he turns his body, almost as if he’s startled by something. “Wait, it’s not my — _Cheryl?_ ” he asks, his voice giving away his confusion. She looks up at Archie, who is frowning as he swipes his phone screen so he can answer the call. “Hello?”

Veronica’s heart skips a beat. Archie sits up quickly, phone on one ear and hand on the other, as if he was trying to make the world around him a little more silent so he could hear whatever Cheryl had to say — _to him,_ of all people, after disappearing on her without even a _happy birthday_ text — at this hour.

“Wait. _What?_ Cheryl—” Archie’s expression changes suddenly, his slightly swollen lips parting, and there’s something like mild _panic_ running through the brown shades of his eyes. Veronica sits up too, eyebrows knitted together, waiting for some explanation, but Archie doesn’t even _look_ at her, his breath scarce as if he’s been running a marathon. “Wait, _wait_!”

“Archie!” Veronica finds herself calling as he gets up suddenly, still holding his phone against his ear, now running a hand through his hair.

“It’s Cheryl.” He tells her only the obvious, opening the door and leaving the guest room. Just like that, _it’s Cheryl_. And he’s gone so fast, it’s like nothing had ever happened between them.

 

 

 

Archie crosses the crowd, the loud music thumping with his hard heartbeats — he tries to find a glimpse of red hair amongst all the guests who are lost under the strobing lights, and his throat aches when he sees it.

His mind is suddenly blank from everything except one thing: Cheryl’s whisperings through the phone, voice clogged up and weak.

_Help me. You need to help me._

“Jason!”

There’s an invisible hand squeezing Archie’s insides. _You need to help me. Please._

“Jason!” he finally reaches his teammate, who opens his arms in a welcoming gesture.

“Archibald!” Jason smiles, sounding tipsy but luckily not drunk enough so he can’t take control of the situation. His expression shifts when he drinks in Archie’s, whose cheeks are flushed and chest is rising up and down as he breathes, the desperation of Cheryl’s plea through the phone not leaving his ears for one second. “Jesus, man, have you seen a ghost?”

“Jason, Cheryl just called me.” Archie shows the other redheaded boy his phone, even though Cheryl has long hung up. “She doesn’t sound— she was asking for help,” he manages to say through his tightening throat. “I think she’s in danger.”

There’s a long beat before Jason says anything — he looks at Archie like he’s crazy. His face twists between confusion and amusement. “Archie, Cheryl is with our parents. I don’t think she—”

Archie shakes his head vehemently. There’s too much noise and light shifting around them. “I’m telling you. Something’s _not right_. We should at least check with—”

“What the _fuck_ is going on?”

Both boys turn around to see Veronica — her arms are crossed in front of her chest, and her mouth looks vulnerable, lipstick lost to what they were doing in the guest bedroom. His heart beats in a different way when he sees her, and his mind races through the fact that Cheryl is Veronica’s best friend. And if she’s been hurt in any way, Veronica will suffer so much. He can’t let anything happen to them. He—

“Cheryl’s in danger,” he says, loud enough that other people around them could hear, if they cared. “She called me. She asked for help. You _have_ to believe me.”

There’s a small crease between Veronica’s eyebrows, and her big brown eyes are searching his. Five minutes ago, they were so close, so soft, staring into his as they laid together in bed after he finally found the courage inside him to let her know how he felt. And now they’re dark. Archie feels frozen with something that feels like fear.

“Come,” he feels Jason grabbing his arm, “let’s go inside and talk about this.”

 

 

 

Jason leads them down the hallway, past the guest bedroom, towards the study with the Van Gogh picture hanging on the wall, a landscape hovering above them with haunting, soft colors. Archie’s jaw is hurting from the way he keeps clenching it. They sit on the leather couches, Jason facing Archie, with Veronica on the opposite side of the same couch, the bright red of her shirt fitting well with the decor.

“She called me,” Archie shows the phone to them as if it’s any proof of what just happened, “and when I answered, she was whispering. She was sort of crying, I don’t know, asking for help.”

“Why would she call _you_?” Jason asks. “No offense, but why wouldn’t she call me or V—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Veronica cuts him off, tugging at the hem of her sleeves as she turns to Archie. “Did she call you twice? Was it her, when we were outside?”

Archie’s trembling hands unlock his phone to check his missed calls — and his heart sinks deep into his chest when he realizes that _yes_ , the first person to call him wasn’t his mom, it was Cheryl, already trying to reach out. He glances over at Veronica, nodding slowly, and he sees her inhale sharply, then lock the air inside of her lungs for a second.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Jason gets his own phone from his pocket, staring at it with disbelief. “Maybe I should call my parents, check if they’re with her? Maybe someone has Cheryl’s phone, and you got pranked?”

Archie opens his mouth to say that _it_ **_was_ ** _Cheryl, for fuck’s sake_ , but Veronica interrupts him. “Do you know the hotel they’re staying at, J? Maybe it’s safer to call them there and not on their cellphones.”

Jason shakes his head. “I don’t know which cities they’d be visiting, exactly. It was all so sudden… I’ll try their phone. It’s probably no big deal.”

“Okay,” Veronica nods, getting up and sounding determined, “I left my bag with my phone outside. I’m going to check if she sent me anything.”

She walks past Archie, and he reaches out to hold her wrist, looking up at her as he feels her hold her breath again. “What should I do?” he asks, his voice low.

“Try to call her back,” it’s Jason who answers, sounding worried, his phone glued to his ear, “and if my parents don’t answer, I’ll try Dad’s secretary. She probably booked everything for them.”

Veronica gently pulls her hand away from his light grip, and she crosses her arms in front of her body again, as if she’s cold. Archie wants to get up and hold her — he wants to say it’s going to be okay, that they will handle this and that Cheryl will be safe, that she doesn’t need to worry — but ultimately knows that she wouldn’t want this to happen in front of Jason. He let’s her walk away, pressing the green button that will call Cheryl back, as instructed.

_We’re sorry. The number you have tried to reach is currently unavailable. Please, try again later._

“It’s unreachable.” Archie tries to call her again but gets the same recorded message.

“My parents aren’t answering,” Jason says, his legs shaking nervously. “I’m gonna call dad’s secretary. Can you open Messenger? Maybe it will tell us the last time she was online.”

He does, quickly finding Cheryl’s profile. He’s been avoiding all things Cheryl ever since Halloween, a couple of weeks ago, and her profile picture is from that very same day — sleek red hair, bright silvery makeup around her eyes, looking away from the camera with her hands over her red-vinyl covered chest. The picture has more than a hundred likes and dozens of comments. Archie stares at it for just one moment, and then swallows hard, opening her chat window.

“It doesn’t show anything. I don’t think she’s been checking.”

“This isn’t right.” Jason gets up, walking towards the desk under the Van Gogh painting, his phone still to his ear. Archie’s fingertips feel cold — he hovers them above the keyboard, wondering if sending a message would work.

Jason is fumbling around with drawers and papers on the desk when Veronica comes back, her cheeks flushed from the cold breeze outside. “She didn’t send me anything except for a text on Friday,” she says, sitting next to Archie again, a solid foot of space between them.

“Jackie, this is Jason Blossom.” They both turn their heads to listen to Jason talk to whom Archie assumes is his father's secretary. “I’m so sorry for calling you at this hour in the middle of the weekend, but there’s been an emergency. I'm trying to reach my parents, but they haven’t told me where exactly in California they were going and— _What?_ ”

Jason’s eyes widen a little as he hears whatever _Jackie_ has to say, and Archie feels that both his and Veronica’s breathing is suspended.

“I see,” he says. “No, of course, they mentioned it. I must have forgotten.” Jason finds a pen and paper and starts writing something down. “Cheryl is with them, right? So, their flight is booked to… Oh,” he stops, running his hand through his red hair, the color leaving his face little by little. “Okay. Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll talk to them. I’m sorry again, Jackie. Thank you.”

“What did she say?” Veronica asks, jumping out her seat.

Jason’s hand is still in his hair, tugging at it a little. “They’re not in California,” he says, swallowing hard. “Jackie said they’re in Italy,” he says, making Archie frown. “Why would they lie to me? Why would they take Cheryl to—”

The phone in Archie’s hand starts vibrating, and it startles the three of them. His breath is all wrong, and he immediately glances down at the screen, hoping he’ll see Cheryl’s name blinking on it again — but this time it really is his mother. The little clock in the right corner of his screen says _2h03_. He should have been home three minutes ago.

“It’s my mom,” he says to the expecting crowd and answers the phone quickly, trying to school his voice into something that doesn’t scream _dread_. “Mom, hey— I’m still at the party, but I’m al—”

“Jeffrey is parked outside the building,” his mom wastes no time in announcing. Archie opens his mouth to argue that he wants to stay a little bit longer — that he _needs_ to, because his friend might be in danger and she chose to warn _him_ about it. He can’t leave Jason and Veronica alone right now, but his mom sounds so determined. She leaves no room for debate. “You have five minutes to say goodbye and come back home.”

Knowing that there’s no use in saying anything, he gets up, taking a step towards Veronica, who’s been watching him with an unreadable expression ever since she got back into the room. Archie touches Veronica’s arm, feeling her body tense up.

“I have to go,” he says, pressing his fingers right above her elbow, seeing her chew on her lower lip with his proximity. “Jeffrey’s outside.”

“Yeah.” Veronica nods, quickly, and again he wants to hold her and say that she doesn’t need to be scared, because she looks _terrified_ , just as he feels. “We’ll take it from here. I’ll text you if we learn something,” she whispers, reassuringly, and Archie dives down to kiss her on the cheek.

“I’ll call you,” he says, smiling softly at her — even with everything that’s happening right now, he won’t forget what had happened _just_ before. Veronica has trouble giving him a smile back, so he places both hands on her shoulders, squeezing them a little. “If she calls me again I’ll let you know immediately, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, her eyes bright as if she wants to tear up, but won’t. Archie plants another kiss, this time on her forehead, and lets her go so he can say goodbye to Jason, who seems lost to searching the desk, mumbling incoherent words to himself.

 

 

 

 

Archie leaves. Between _I want to be with you_ one second, watching Archie run to warn Jason about Cheryl the other, and all the minutes following that, Veronica’s heart feels like it’s going to burst. She places a hand on her own chest, hoping she can catch it between her fingers if it decides to explode.

“Do you think she’s really in danger?” Veronica finds herself asking, her voice weak as she stares at the open door Archie just walked out of. It’s not that she’s doubting Archie’s words — she’s just trying to hold on to any hope left. Twin siblings, unbreakable bond, anything.

“Something’s off,” Jason says, and he sounds different now that Archie is gone, uncertain, defeated. “Their passports really are gone. Why would they lie to me about where they were going? Jackie said they only bought two return tickets.”

“What did Cheryl say to you? When you talked about California?”

Jason shakes his head. “She didn’t. We weren’t really speaking — she’s been mad at me for a while now, because I —” he starts and stops, hiding his face in his pale hands, and Veronica feels her stomach stir. She can’t help him. She knows _nothing_. She knows nothing about Cheryl anymore. She chose not to know, to step aside and help Archie. She chose to let it be, and it seems like Jason has been missing out too, which is probably why Cheryl called Archie of all people — he _cared_ , in all the ways they couldn’t. “She was excited to get out of here. I guess I was jealous that she’d get the chance to do what she wanted,” Jason says finally, his voice straining.

Veronica sits on the couch, running a hand through her hair as she takes in a deep breath, her mind racing back in time, trying to find any sort of sign that could help them understand why Cheryl would need help right now, why she would be in danger. But in her brain there’s only Archie — all the worrying during the days he was absent after Halloween, the way he avoided Cheryl in the hallways, the way his body felt in his damp clothes when he hugged her after the rain, his heart breaking over that girl.

“What are we going to do?” Veronica asks, exhaling slowly.

“I don’t know,” Jason confesses, sitting on his father’s chair, behind the desk, his shoulders down. “I have no idea.”

Veronica opens her purse, finding her phone again. She stares at the message Cheryl sent her the day before. **_i’m sorry. i love you._ **

Would answering it now make any difference?

 

 

 

 

She stays with Jason in the study as he tries to reach his parents throughout the entire night, her hands growing increasingly colder. The party is over at some point — neither realize when, jumping at any vibration from their phones that end up being either groupchat messages or Instagram notifications. Nothing important. Nothing from Cheryl.

It’s almost four in the morning when Jason gets them cups of tea that they don’t drink and places a blanket on Veronica’s lap, sitting by her side, looking as exhausted as she feels. They stay in silence for a couple of minutes — she curls the blanket around her shoulders and closes her eyes for just a second.

When Veronica opens them again, startled, Jason isn’t there anymore. The sky is starting to glow with the sunrise — it’s almost seven in the morning — and she figures he has moved to his own bedroom, since he would definitely wake her up had he found anything. Veronica’s body aches — she had been hoping this had all been a bad dream — but reality is there, creeping in the corners of the study, on her empty phone screen, in the last remnants of the party in the living room.

Even though it's early, she asks Andre to pick her up, because he’ll ask no questions. The ride from Thornhill to the Pembrooke is too short — there’s no time for her to realize that coming back home means facing her parents after what happened at the gala the night before. With a headache pounding behind her eyes, Veronica crosses the living room straight to her bathroom, not bothering to take off her shoes — her parents are probably up, anyway, since they’ve always believed in waking up freakishly early. There’s no reason to hide.

She washes her hair ferociously, as if cleaning her scalp will help clear her mind of all thoughts too, but even though the hot water does release some of the tension from her shoulders, it does nothing to shut her brain up. With her eyes closed, she feels Archie’s mouth on hers, just _hours_ ago. She feels Cheryl’s presence because they’ve used the same shampoo since forever, and it makes her stomach twist in an unpleasant way.

Veronica puts on a fresh pair of satin pajamas, dries her hair up with a microfiber towel, and drinks a whole glass of water before listening to the morning sounds of her house. She stares at herself in her vanity mirror, feeling too young with her face bare of any makeup — but there’s no time like the present.

With her her head up, Veronica joins her parents in the dining room, finding them in their normal Sunday routine — sitting at the breakfast table, her mother in tasteful cashmere loungewear, drinking a mimosa, and her father in a dark blue tracksuit, reading the newspaper. On the front page of the Chicago Tribune, there’s a picture of the Mayor and his son alongside her parents. The headline read **_HARRIS AGAIN?_** in big, bold capital letters, and right under it: _LODGE INDUSTRIES ANNOUNCE FULL SUPPORT OF THE MAYOR’S REELECTION, read more on page 4._

“Good morning,” Veronica says, aware that nothing _good_ is going to follow. She stands at the other side of the table, at the edge that’s furthest from where her father’s sitting, and he lowers the newspaper at the same time her mother lowers the mimosa glass, serious eyes and clenched jaws.

“Would you look at that.” It’s Hiram who starts, folding the newspaper and setting it down on the table. “So she didn’t spend the night in Washington Park, after all.”

“You two say whatever you want to say. I’m tired.”

Her father opens his mouth, but Hermione places a hand over his, a pinched expression around her mouth. “Your father and I are extremely disappointed with your behavior last night, Veronica. We trusted you to attend an important event, and you acted like —”

“You _trusted_ me?” Veronica interrupts her mother, not being able to hold it inside. “You only invited me so you could pimp me out to the Mayor’s son!”

The napkin hits the table, and Hiram gets up, chair scratching the floor. Veronica raises her chin even more — the abruptness of her father’s movements won’t intimidate her, but the serious tone of his voice makes her shiver inside. “We invited you to sit _by our side_ in a business transaction that you almost ruined out of spite. You wanted in. You asked for it, and you were in. Do you know what that means? _Trust_ , Veronica.”

“I asked you for that months ago, _Daddy_ , and you just decided that I should be a part of it when you needed me for something. It was never about trust — it’s always the means to an end for you.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. You don’t get to talk to me like this. You don’t get to live under my roof and do whatever you want, and you don’t get to try to humiliate me in public.” He points a finger at her. Veronica’s eyes are welling up, but she maintains her poise. “You are over eighteen now, and I swear to God that if you bet against me or our family again, I will kick you out of thi—”

“Hiram.” Her mother interjects, holding his forearm gently.

“No, let him say it, mom.” Veronica feels the anger bubbling up from her insides. “You’ll kick me out and disown me? And _maybe_ , if you’re feeling merciful, you won’t send a henchman after me?”

“Cuidado con lo que dices, Veronica.” Hermione stands up too. “Your disrespect will no longer be tolerated. You are grounded for the next week. No parties, no trips to the library to meet the Jones boy, no credit cards or bribing Andre. Do you hear me?”

Veronica’s lips part slightly. She thought she had been so careful these past couple of months — her meetings with Jughead were always disguised as tutoring. She allows herself to be caught off guard for just one split-second, but it’s enough for her father to read it on her face.  His expression shifts from pure anger to amusement as he realizes she thought she could outsmart them.

“We were going to take you to visit your _abuelita_ in New York, this Thanksgiving,” Hiram says, as if he wasn’t just now threatening his daughter. “But given the circumstances, maybe you’ll be better off eating something out of a box with the Jones’. Your loyalty clearly lies with them.”

Veronica stares at her parents and tries to swallow the bad taste in her mouth. She can’t remember the last time they were a real family, the last time she could admire and adore them as she did when she was a little kid. That time is gone, and it’s probably never coming back. She doesn’t like them. She’s scared of them. She feels like a complete stranger in this house. She can’t see herself in their eyes anymore, even though they are the exact same shades as hers.

She wants to spit that her loyalty lies with whoever isn’t hiring biker gangs to run drugs or guns or whatever’s getting people _killed_ out there, but she knows better — for now, this is a fight she has lost.

“Go back to your room. Consuelo will bring you something to eat,” Hermione says.

Veronica doesn’t need to be asked twice.

 

 

 

 

Since her parents won’t allow her to get a ride with Betty, Andre takes her to school on Monday morning, glancing at her with apologetic eyes. Veronica stays with her phone in her hand throughout the entire way — just like she stayed the whole Sunday — waiting for Jason to check in again and give her some news.

Apparently, he found out where Cheryl is — with their parents, so there’s no need to worry all that much — and is flying to Italy so he can get more details on what prompted her to make that desperate call and understand why everyone told him they’d be on the West Coast when they were actually in Europe.

 **_just tell me she isn’t hurt_** **,** Veronica wrote yesterday, but Jason still hasn’t answered. If she wasn’t goddamn _grounded_ , she could’ve gone with him and taken the matter into her own hands instead of letting someone else handle the well-being of one of the people who is most important to her.

In her messaging app, there are dozens of unread texts — belated _happy birthdays_ , party gossiping, worried questions from Betty. Veronica overlooks all of them, except for the ones in Archie’s chat, all variations of the same theme: **_hey, any news about cheryl?_ ** and **_i’m so worried about cheryl_ ** and **_have you spoken to jason? i can’t stop thinking about this_** _._

She answered that one last night — **_jason is flying to italy. i guess she’ll be okay. i don’t know anything else._ ** — just so he would _stop_ sending them. Veronica feels foolish, stupid for thinking this could just _happen_ , that she could enjoy her party and kiss the boy she wanted to kiss without any consequences. She’s worried about Cheryl — she would never forgive herself if anything happened to her — but she’s also mad at herself for forgetting that just two weeks ago Cheryl had broken Archie’s heart _somehow_ , that his sudden interest in wanting to be with Veronica could only mean one thing.

She also feels stupid for believing in him, even if just for one second. The way his world just _stopped_ when he saw Cheryl’s name on his screen, the way he just ignored that they were kissing, even before he knew she was asking for help — it just proved her right. She shouldn’t have kissed him. Not in that closet, and not now.

Speaking of boys she shouldn’t have kissed, Veronica spots Reggie by his locker when she walks into school. She suddenly remembers how he mistakenly called Cheryl the other Saturday — she didn’t give it much thought at the time, but now that Cheryl is in another _country_ asking for help in the middle of the night, something makes her face heat up and her blood boil.

Veronica takes firm steps towards Reggie, her head high, and shoves him against the locker, the metal making a loud sound when it collides with his heavy body.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” he exclaims, angrily.

“Why did you call Cheryl the other day? What did you want with her?”

“Are you out of your m— _ouch!_ ”

She punches his shoulder. People around them stop whatever they’re doing to stare at them —  Veronica’s chest going up and down as she breathes heavily, Reggie rubbing his shoulder with a confused expression on his face. “Cheryl called asking for help, and she might be in danger. Jason is in fucking Italy right now to try and find her. So if you know anything, _spill_.”

“You’re fucking crazy!” Reggie says, his mouth turning into a familiar pout, and Veronica crosses her arms in front of her body, waiting for what he really has to say. He _will_ say something — his jaw is clenching, and he’s looking to his side. She just knows him way too well. “Look, I just wanted to talk to her. I’ve been worried about her.”

“ _Why?_ ”

Reggie looks at her for a long moment, as if wondering if he should tell Veronica anything,  before heaving out a breath. “She was with me at the lake house on Halloween. We—”

“Did you sleep with her?!”

“What?! _No_ ,” his grimace makes Veronica believe him, but not enough to soften her features, “Cheryl was still there Sunday morning. She didn’t leave. She was upset, and we talked. I just wanted to check if she was doing better.”

“Upset about _what_?” Veronica asks, her voice clogged up. _Was it me?_ Is the question that her brain keeps on asking. And then, from the depth of her mind, another question forms itself, creeping through her brain until it’s impossible to ignore it. She spent all this time paying attention to Archie and his broken heart, but what if it wasn’t just like that? “Was it Archie?”

It’s probably the way her voice breaks that makes Reggie look at her like he’s been wounded. “No, Veronica,” he answers after a beat, looking away. “She— she dumped Andrews, I guess. It had nothing to do with him.”

Veronica takes a small step back, lowering her head — she expected knowing that Archie wasn’t the one who hurt Cheryl to lift a huge weight off her shoulders, but it changes nothing. She looks up at Reggie, hoping that he can read her expression apologizing for all the rage, but he’s shrugging. He looks hurt too, and it surely wasn’t her punch.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know why she’s gone,” he says, voice down one pitch. “I’ll try to reach out.”

Once he walks away, Veronica’s back finds the locker wall, her head against the cold metal. She feels tears prickling in the corner of her eyes.

What a fucking mess.

 

 

 

 

After spending the whole day left on read by Ronnie — something he would’ve joked about, in other circumstances — and worrying about Cheryl, Archie doesn’t even wait for Kevin to catch the bus on Monday morning, heading to school a bit earlier than usual. Veronica had written back at some point, saying that Jason was going to Italy for Cheryl, but she didn’t say anything else.

He tries to find Veronica before first period, aware that they share no classes on Mondays, but Betty finds him first. She thanks him for all the help he gave on Saturday with the party and slowly uncurls her hands from fists when she apologizes for taking things out on him the past couple of weeks — if he wants to keep on with their tutoring sessions, she’s willing and able.

Betty doesn’t seem to know anything about what could be going on with Cheryl — she doesn’t even mention it, which makes Archie believe that maybe it’s a secret between him, Ronnie, and Jason, so he doesn’t say anything. They walk to class together, and only after sitting through forty-five excruciating minutes of geometry, he’s able to catch Ronnie before the second bell rings, startling her a little when he holds her wrist.

“Hey,” he says, slightly flustered from the small run. She looks perfect, as usual, her hair sleek and shiny, her makeup sharp. Archie thinks he now knows her well enough to notice that this is her game face. His thumb slides down her wrist, caressing it softly — there had been no time to think back about what happened between them, but it did happen. “Are you okay?”

Veronica looks at him the same way she did back at Thornhill, as if her words are caught in her throat. She removes her wrist from his hold, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yeah,” she says, finally, between a sigh, “it was a rollercoaster weekend. I’m still waiting for more news from Jason. He hasn’t said anything else.”

“Okay,” Archie says, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as his eyes travel down to hers, so perfectly covered by her dark lipstick. In the midst of it all, he can still feel it, the way she kissed him two days ago. Cheryl’s safety is her priority right now — and it’s his, too — but he can’t help but want to go back to that guest room and taste her lips again. It makes him short of breath. “Do you want to do something after practice today?”

Veronica probably feels it too, the tension lingering between them. It gets her holding her books closer to her body. “I can’t. I’m grounded.” She bites down on her lower lip. Archie frowns — it’s hard to believe that someone has the power to stop Veronica Lodge, even if that _someone_ is her parents. “I have to go back home.”

“Why are your parents mad?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says, her breath picking up. “Listen, I gotta go,” she mumbles, already _going_ , starting to turn her back on Archie. “I have calculus now, and the teacher will —”

“Wait, Ronnie!” he stops her, his hand just brushing against her forearm. “We should talk about us.”

“Archie,” she breathes, “we shouldn’t do this right now, okay? There’s a million things going on in my head, and I don’t think I—”

“Hey, no, no.” Archie places both hands on her arms. “Look, Ronnie, I know we’re both worried about Cheryl, and trust me, I haven’t really thought about anything else since she called me. But still—”

“I don’t want to talk about this, Archie,” she interrupts him, and her tone is different, colder. Archie knits his eyebrows together, feeling trapped into some sort of _Dejà-vu_ from the beginning of the school year: trying to reach out to her and being left with nothing.

“Why does everytime something happen between us you shut me out the next day?” he can’t help but ask, his heart starting to beat on the base of his throat.

“Because nothing should have happened between us in the first place.”

He looks into her eyes, confused, trying to read whatever the shine in her irises is trying to say. This can’t be right — she kissed him back. She smiled against his mouth. He felt his legs tangled up with hers — he felt the weight of her body throwing him with his back flat on the mattress. _How_ on Earth did she change her mind so fast?

“Veronica, I don’t regret anything I said or did,” he says, willing to fight, but he already feels stupid, beating a dead horse. His hands drop off her. “I told you I wanted to be with you, and I meant it.”

“Look, I’ve been here for you, and I get it. But just the other day, you were writing songs about my best friend, who could be _hurt_ right now, and I— I _can’t_.” She sounds final. Archie can’t really understand what she’s saying — it’s like he suddenly has forgotten how to speak English. “And you _shouldn’t_.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, exasperated, trapped in his confusion.

“Even if I wanted to be your rebound, I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with this right now.”

There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow. He has no idea what she’s talking about — writing songs about Cheryl? _Rebound_? — but he’s not dumb: the fact that she doesn’t want to be with him, not right now or maybe ever, _that_ he understands completely.

The bell rings. It’s a shrill, piercing noise that cuts the air between them. Archie is staring at Veronica, trying to grasp _anything_ in her eyes that makes just a little more sense than whatever’s coming out from her mouth. But he was right — she’s got her game face on, and she’ll give away nothing.

“I’m sorry,” she says, in the face of his demeanor, her throat moving as she swallows hard. “I gotta go.”

 

 

 

 

Archie goes through the motions as the day goes on. Veronica doesn’t sit with them at lunch — she’s not even in the cafeteria, and he knows she’s chosen to eat at the student lounge, just so she doesn't have to face him. Kevin and Betty are blissfully unaware, gossiping about Ginger and Steve making out at the party on Saturday. They don’t realize that Jason isn't there, and they have no idea that Cheryl is potentially going through something horrible.

No one’s talking about anything other than Ginger and Steve. No one’s seen what happened between Archie and Veronica. No one _knows_ , and now it’s already over — so it’s like it never even happened, anyway.

And maybe it didn’t. Maybe he just imagined the whole thing.

He shoots baskets during practice, missing most of them. Couch Clayton is in a bad mood, calling him and his teammates _lousy players_ , stressed out about Jason’s absence and the big game that’s coming post-Thanksgiving. The girls start doing their routines once the boy’s practice is over, but they seem lost without Cheryl and Veronica among them. Archie can’t stand to look at them for too long and leaves to the locker room with his head hurting.

_Rebound. Writing songs about my best friend._

It makes no fucking sense.

He showers, gets dressed, and ignores his teammates as much as he can. When it’s time for him to finally leave, he notices that Jeffrey’s truck is parked in front of the school building — he’s supposed to go to therapy today, so of course his mom would have Jeffrey pick him up.

Maybe Ms. Baker will have an answer for it all, he thinks, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder as he crosses the street. Maybe she’ll tell him how to feel after taking a leap of faith and falling flat on his face.

Archie has almost reached Jeffrey’s truck when the passenger door opens. He stops — did his mom really come to pick him up too? And when he suddenly realizes who’s coming out the truck, he can’t help but gasp.

“Oh, my God,” Archie says, taking big steps, his heart beating so fast it could explode.

“Hey, Arch.” Fred Andrews smiles, his arms opening as Archie steps into them, hugging him tightly. He’s wearing flannel, and he smells like the aftershave he’s worn for as long as Archie remembers. He smells like home. “Hey, son.”

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! i know it's been a while, but i was extra busy and tired. now i'm back and i promise even though this chapter has been a rollercoaster, you'll have another one by sunday, or at least before riverdale comes back with season 3!
> 
> i am not apologizing because a) i'm mean and b) i'm pretty excited for the arc that's here now, and i'm hoping you guys will be too.
> 
> also! i haven't answered the comments (wooo so many nice ones) on the last chapter but i will later on. feel free to message me here or at @andsmile on tumblr, and i'm so grateful for the response. i love you!
> 
> (even though ronnie dumped archie and you hate me, i still love you.)
> 
> song at the beginning is "high hopes" by kodaline. don't fret. this world keeps spinning around ;)


	24. Chapter 24

_i drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door_

 

 

 

 

They go from Northside Prep to Ms. Baker’s office, and then straight to the Ikea in Schaumburg — Jeffrey driving, Fred in the passenger seat and Archie in the back, feeling like an excited kid, all his troubles shoved away to somewhere else in his brain.

Fred answers all his questions with a tad bit of a smile in his voice: he’s there so he can spend Thanksgiving with Archie – Mary agreed on the visit, and he thought he’d surprise his son by showing up suddenly. He’s staying in a three-star Marriott just a few blocks away from the loft, and he’s leaving on Friday evening (flying back on the weekend would be too expensive). He wanted to bring Vegas as well, but he wouldn’t make the labrador suffer through a plane journey — Mrs. Grimmet agreed to dog sit him. She was sure her grandchildren would love to play with him during the holiday.

At Ikea, Fred and Archie help Jeffrey choose a table for the loft, because, apparently, they can't have a real Thanksgiving meal sitting on the living room. His mom doesn’t know yet, so Jeff thinks they should go for something modern and tasteful, nothing that would make her want to immediately return it when she sees it. They end up deciding on a rectangular one, made of acacia wood, with room for eight chairs, and the three of them spend a couple of hours trying to assemble it.

Jeffrey opens beer bottles when their mission is accomplished, one for him and one for Fred. Since Ms. Baker still thinks Archie shouldn’t have alcohol, caffeine, or anything too stimulating, he cheers with a can of Sprite, which Mary approves of when she gets home, thanking the men for taking care of her boy so well.

She likes the table, too. She smiles so softly at it that, for a moment, Archie is scared she might tear up.

“It looks like home,” is what she says, and Archie agrees, placing a hand on her shoulder, a hand that she covers immediately with hers, squeezing his fingers tightly.

After dinner, Jeff lends Archie the truck, so he can take Fred to the hotel, even though his father says he can take a cab — but Mary insists, saying that the two of them should have some time alone.

Archie has been dreading it — being alone with his father probably means acknowledging the things he's been trying to avoid (even though he kept checking his phone from time to time, waiting on some news from Jason), but, as soon as they’re both together inside the car, talking just feels natural.

(He can’t believe that there was a time when he thought he couldn’t trust his dad.)

“I normally take the bus with Kevin. He lives next door to us. He’s so funny, Dad. You’ve gotta meet him. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I have basketball practice. Coach Clayton seems tough, but he has a big heart. The guys on the team are alright. The captain, Jason Blossom, is a good friend,” Archie says, wondering if Jason has found Cheryl, if he needs something, if she’s okay. “There’s Betty Cooper, who’s saving my grades, and…” he stops, glancing at his dad, who seems interested in what he has to say. Archie heaves out a breath. If Fred had shown up _one day_ before, it would have been a whole different story. “And Veronica Lodge. I kinda told you about her.”

He has, purposely, not given much — if any — thought about Veronica ever since he walked out of Ms. Baker’s office, earlier on, and even there, he avoided talking too much about her. All he knows is that he’s still very much confused about her reasons for dumping him before they even started (he surely did not write any songs for any best friend of hers), and all that he can conclude is that she’s just making up excuses because she won’t dare tell him the truth: she just doesn’t feel the same.

“Oh, the black eye girl,” Fred teases, making Archie glance at him. “Any developments in that _vague_ situation?”

Archie sighs. He feels a little defeated, like his walls are coming down. “I told her how I felt.” He shrugs, stopping at a red sign. “She doesn’t want to be with me.”

His dad’s hand finds his shoulder, squeezing it briefly. “I’m sorry, son. But, for what is worth, I’m proud of you for being brave,” Fred says, and as the light turns green, he hears his dad take a deep breath. “Not only about that.”

He’s talking about the anxiety attacks and Geraldine. Archie pulls over in front of the Marriott — it’s not that far from the Illinois Medical District, and they can hear the faint sound of ambulance sirens in the background. Archie unbuckles his seatbelt, knowing that he’s about to have a deeper conversation.

“I wish I was here while it was happening, Arch,” Fred says, wearing an expression that never fails to tighten Archie’s chest, “but Ms. Baker advised your Mom that I’d be a stressful variant.” He smiles, making Archie laugh a little. “So, I came as soon as she said it’d be okay. And I hope it is,” he searches Archie’s face, “okay, I mean.”

“Dad,” Archie starts after a whole beat of silence, looking at Fred but not directly into his eyes — he’s scared he’d lose his courage if he did, “Mom says I don’t need to apologize, but I… I have to. And especially to you. You were doing your best, working so hard to take care of me, and I broke your trust. I didn’t listen when you tried to tell me what was going on. I was so angry at you when you made me move here, and you were just trying to protect me. And…” He swallows as his voice breaks a little. “And I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so, so sorry.”

Fred places a hand on his cheek. “Arch, your safety and your happiness are the most important things in my life,” his voice firm and reassuring. “Nothing else matters to me. I want you to know that.”

Archie nods, looking into his dad’s eyes. They’re both tearing up a little, recognizing some of their own features in one another. “I missed you.”

“I know, son.” Fred smiles, gently tapping Archie’s cheek. “I missed you too.”

 

 

 

 

Her parents fly to New York on Wednesday morning.

Hermione wakes her up earlier than usual — she sits on the edge of Veronica’s bed, not really looking at her, and says that they’ll be back on Sunday evening. She expects Veronica to be _obedient_ , to not leave the house except for going to school, and to at least call her _abuelita_ to say that she’s sorry she can’t make it.

“I’ve given Consuelo a day off tomorrow,” her mother gets up, smoothing her skirt down to get rid of phantom wrinkles, “but don’t forget that if you’re out of line, we’ll know.”

That’s what she says before leaving — a veiled threat instead of a _Happy Thanksgiving_. Outside her room, she can hear her father’s voice, and it gets her expectant for a full minute. She wonders if he’ll come and say something, too, but he doesn’t.

Consuelo brings her breakfast in bed a few minutes later, watching her sit up with warm, kind eyes. “No estás sola, Miss Veronica,” she says, touching Veronica’s hair for the smallest moment before smiling down at her and leaving her with the breakfast tray.

_You’re not alone._

Except, yes, she is, and it’s okay. She doesn't want her parents around anyways. She wants Cheryl. She wants Betty. She wants Kevin.

And she wants Archie —

— even though she looked him in the eye and said she didn’t. Even though she couldn’t say _it’s_ **_you_** _, my heart is on the line_ without setting it up to be broken. She remembers spitting out that she wasn’t interested in being his rebound, remembers how he frowned in confusion, remembers how she couldn’t bring herself to say _I_ **_can’t_ ** _be your rebound_.

She already misses him. She saw him in the hallway yesterday. She’s seen him in the cafeteria, laughing at something Kevin said. The most awful part of her felt a little disappointed that he was just smiling and lightening up the room like nothing had ever happened the day before.

She wishes she could just stop wanting him.

Veronica doesn’t eat, shoving herself under the duvet. Deciding that she’s not going to school today — why would she go? Just to face him during the classes they share together and feel _terrible_ because he’s _not_ feeling terrible? — she commands herself to think about nothing and falls asleep again.

She wakes up around noon to the sound of Consuelo vacuuming the hallway, and her mouth is dry, like she’s eaten chalk. She reaches for the orange juice that's been lying on the breakfast tray, on her nightstand, since morning, drinking it all in one big gulp.

Checking her phone, the first thing that catches her attention is a message from Polly Cooper. **_hey! jason asked me to tell you that he’s with his sister. there’s something going on between them and their parents. i’m not sure what, but they’re safe. he’ll text you when he’s back to chicago, which should be soon._ **

Veronica blows out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. With her heart beating faster and faster, something between relief and anxiety, she takes a screenshot of Polly’s message and sends it to Archie. He might not know yet, and, even with everything that went down between the two of them, she promised she’d let him know if she had any news about Cheryl.

He, expectedly, leaves her on read.

 

 

 

 

Hermione told her not to leave the house, but the Lodges own the Pembrooke — so going down a few floors to the Coopers isn’t really breaking the rules. Betty’s apartment is vastly different from the penthouse — it’s obviously smaller, but it looks a lot more like a home than like a photoshoot for Elle Décor. There are actually signs of people living there, like a basket of laundry forgotten on the living room couch and pairs of shoes in the foyer: Betty’s pristine, light pink Converse, Polly’s oxblood Doc Martens that will forever be the cause of Alice Cooper’s nightmares, and Chic’s worn-out, grey sneakers. Their mom never allows them to walk over the carpet with their shoes on.

The rule, of course, isn't extended to guests (wouldn’t that be rude?), which is why Kevin has his shoes on when Veronica enters the kitchen. Betty’s wearing a mint green apron that matches the oven mitts, and there’s white flour spread all over the counter.

“Hey, stranger!” Kevin says with a smile. He’s eating Nutella from an almost empty jar, and he smells like chocolate when he hugs her briefly. “You came just in time for the cookie dough tasting. Why did you skip today?”

“My mom came to my room this morning and told me not to leave my house, so I guess I just felt like obeying her.” Veronica quickly greets Betty with a kiss on her cheek, proceeding to sit on a tall stool.

“Why did you parents ground you, again?” Kevin asks, around a mouthful of Nutella.

“I told you, they were mad because she left the gala earlier,” Betty responds, carefully folding ingredients into a bowl.

“They can’t ground you for going to your birthday party on your birthday.” Kevin sounds indignant, scraping the jar with a spoon. “It’s ridiculous. You’re eighteen now. Can you even _be_ grounded?”

“I guess as long as I’m living under their roof, it’s their rules.” Veronica shrugs. She really doesn’t want to talk about her parents. “So, are we making these extra delicious because someone else is going to eat them?” Veronica wiggles her eyebrows at Betty. She knows that the Coopers are leaving to Pentwater this evening, to spend Thanksgiving with Hal’s parents, and she also knows that there’s another guest going with them.

“Juggie will eat anything. It doesn’t need to be extra delicious.” Betty keeps a straight face, even though her cheeks clearly heat up.

“How did you even convince your parents to let him go with you?” Veronica asks, stealing a chocolate chip from a bowl.

“They didn’t want me to take him, _of course_ , but I reminded them that Polly took Jason every other year, and that Chic took that first boyfriend of his ages ago, too… So, equal rights.” Betty just keeps doing her job with the spatula, almost nonchalant. Both Veronica and Kevin are looking at her with smiles on their faces. “Of course, we’re going to be sleeping in different bedrooms, and you can bet that my dad is probably mounting guard during the night at my door.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Kevin teases, making Veronica chuckle — Betty’s face turns even pinker. “Oh, _my God_! There’s a will?”

“Well, we’re not _dead_ , Kev.”

“I know, I know.” Kevin heaves out a breath. “It’s just that — you’re potentially losing your virginity to your first boyfriend, who’s also the boy you’ve loved since you were thirteen, on a weekend at the lake shore. It’s so romantic!” His enthusiasm gets both Betty and Veronica laughing. “We just need to figure out how he can go through your dad’s guard.”

“Speaking of dads,” Betty says, adding the chocolate chips to the batter, “Archie’s dad is the sweetest person ever, isn’t he?”

“Way to change the subject, Betty Cooper.” Kevin rolls his eyes. Veronica holds her breath when she hears Archie’s name, doing her best to keep a neutral expression on her face. “But yes, he’s actually amazing. Too bad you couldn’t meet him, V!”

“Wait, Archie’s dad is in town?” She hears herself asking in a voice that only distantly sounds like her own. There’s a knot that forms at the base of her throat — _oh, my God,_ Archie missed his dad _so much_. He must be so excited to have him around after all these months, so _happy_. All the times he mentioned his father in a conversation his eyes softened, full of that warm, good thing that defined him.

“What, you didn’t know? I thought he had invited you to dinner yesterday, but you couldn’t come because you’re grounded.”

Kevin doesn’t seem to notice that her breathing is all wrong, and that she’s _hurting_ — the most important person in Archie’s life is here, and she didn’t even know — and it’s all her fault.

“No, I haven’t really seen him since the party.” She draws patterns in the flour with her index finger, just so she can avoid looking at her friends. Luckily, they seem very unaware of what happened between her and Archie, at the party and after that. “He must be happy that his dad is here.”

“I don’t know if he’s happy, but _I’m_ happy. He’s a real DILF.”

“Oh, my God.” Betty makes a face. Despite herself, Veronica chuckles, flicking a chocolate chip at Kevin.

They spend a few more minutes chatting — apparently, Betty, Kevin, and Jughead were all at Lou’s with Archie and his father the night before. With every story and smile, a bittersweet feeling fills up her chest — she didn’t want to be missing out on this, but she’s also happy that Archie gets to spend time with his favorite person in the world.

When the cookie dough is approved by both Kevin and Veronica, Kevin checks his phone. He  winces little when he notices the time. “Shit, I have to go. I’m supposed to pick my mom up from the airport. I’ll see you next week.” He gets up and gives Betty a tight hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in the woods with a brooding hottie.”

Both Veronica and Betty laugh at that. “I wonder what’s on that list,” Betty says. “Have fun with your family, Kev.”

“You too, baby girl. And you,” Kevin hugs Veronica too, “I’ll call to check on you tomorrow.”

He leaves, stealing some leftover cookie dough and taking it with him. As soon as Betty and Veronica are alone, the blonde girl looks at her immediately, her green eyes widening. “V, _what the hell_ is this story with Cheryl? When Polly told me —”

“I know,” Veronica breathes out. She’s glad that Betty isn’t in the dark about this anymore. Betty’s always good in stressful situations. She always knows what to do. “She just called Archie out of the blue and then Jason found out their parents were lying. He flew to Italy, and I have no idea what’s really going on.” She bites her lower lip. “I’m worried about her, B.”

Betty places one hand on top of Veronica’s. “So am I. Despite everything that happened, you know I care about Cheryl,” she says. “But Jason is there, so we can be sure that he won’t let anything happen to her.”

Veronica nods, agreeing. She turns her hand around and links her fingers with Betty’s.

 

 

 

 

It’s raining again on Thursday, and the forecast predicts a wet holiday in Chicago. Archie doesn’t go for his usual weekend morning jog with Kevin and does a series of sit-ups and crunches in his room instead. He intends to play a bit on his guitar after showering but gives up when the only thing that comes to his mind is the lyrics to a song called _Veronica is crazy_.

He prepared himself to face her during class the day before, but she was nowhere to be seen. For all he knew, she was going to spend her Thanksgiving with her parents at some fancy place — a while ago, she had mentioned flying to New York to visit her grandmother sometimes, so maybe that was the reason for her absence.

Or maybe she was really, _really_ trying to avoid him.

Of course, around lunchtime, a notification from her popped up on his phone. Archie had to wear his best poker face while checking his phone under the cafeteria table, wondering if she was finally willing to explain what the hell she meant when she said she was his _rebound_ , but all she sent was a screenshot of a message from Polly Cooper and news about Cheryl.

Which was great, since Jason was with her and they were safe, but Veronica didn’t write anything else. Archie felt _dumb_ for thinking for a split second that she’d want to talk about them.

He left her on read. He immediately felt bad about it, but he also hoped that it bothered her, even if just a little.

Archie sets the guitar down and decides to leave his room and help with the preparations. His mom and Jeffrey are already in the kitchen, crushing bread into crumbs to make the turkey stuffing. The loft looks a lot smaller with the big table, but Archie thinks that it’s already his favorite thing in the house, especially because his dad is sitting at it, drinking coffee.

“Morning,” Archie says, smiling fondly and stealing a handful of cranberries from a bowl in the kitchen counter, all the ingredients neatly prepped.

“Morning, son!”

“Morning, buddy.”

“Morning, baby.”

Archie sits by his father’s side at the table. Jeff announces that he’ll make Archie some cocoa for breakfast ( _when will this kid be allowed to drink coffee again_ ), and it gets Mary giggling, kissing her partner on the cheek.

The TV is on, as usual, and there’s some morning show playing a Thanksgiving special — the show host is talking about gratitude, about the importance of giving back, about being surrounded by love.

He smiles to himself as he watches those three people that love him so much bickering at each other between laughs and warmth. The day hasn’t even really started yet, but he’s already thankful for something.

 

 

 

 

The Penthouse is completely empty when Veronica wakes up.

Consuelo has the day off, and most of the shops around her are closed or won’t make deliveries on holidays. So, Veronica has to fend for her own breakfast — which consisted in following an _easy and healthy oatmeal recipe_ from a Youtube video, taking about one hour to even find the things she needed. Milk was easy, but how the hell was she supposed to know that they kept the oats on a high shelf, in a clean container that was _not_ it's original packaging?

She eats the top part — it tastes good, at least — discarding the burnt bottom, and she _can_ make an espresso in their amazing espresso machine that just needs a capsule and water and some buttons pressed. Washing the dishes is also something she _can_ do. Veronica finds it almost therapeutic — except she has no idea how to deal with the oatmeal stuck to the pan. She hopes Consuelo can deal with it when she’s back.

Knowing that she’s alone has some advantages. She can walk around with sock feet. She doesn’t need to put on a robe that matches her pajamas, because her dad is not there to glance at her like she’s a homeless person. She can eat a whole box of macarons without her mom pointing out something about _calories_.

Veronica sits on the living room couch with her feet tucked under a blanket. She reads Wuthering Heights until it’s much later, letting herself get lost in the deeply disturbing love story between Cathy and Heathcliff — she stops when the narrative starts getting darker, the rain stronger against her windows.

It’s like the silence is getting to her.

Putting the book aside, she lays down on the couch with her phone, hoping to find some restaurant open and willing to deliver her some lunch, but she automatically checks Instagram first. Her feed is full of heartwarming pictures — Betty has posted one of her and Jughead, both wearing sweaters, his arm around her waist and a shy smile on his face, a contrast to the way she’s beaming at the camera. Veronica likes it and comments an emoji with two hearts-eyes.

She stops again at a post from Reggie, who apparently is with his brother Oliver and his one-year old nephew, who’s squished between them with a big smile on his cute baby face. Reggie is smiling too, in that handsome way of his, and Veronica takes a deep breath, the silence getting even more haunting.

She closes Instagram and is on her way to open GrubHub, when a text from Kevin comes in, startling her a little.

**_happy thanksgiving! hope u have fun with ur parents even tho they’re horrible for grounding u._ **

There’s a picture too, a selfie of Kevin with his gorgeous parents, three smiling green-eyed people. Veronica smiles tenderly at it. **_you look adorable. happy thanksgiving. my plans are to watch netflix and order food._ **

**_wait, what??? r u alone???_ **

**_yep. they’re at grandma’s in ny._ **

**_v!!!!_ **

**_it’s okay. i have a whole season of the handmaiden’s tale to binge watch._ **

He starts writing his answer. Veronica watches the three little dots appear and disappear at the bottom of their chat, and then it stops completely. Kevin calls her, instead.

“Veronica Cecilia Lodge, I cannot believe you didn’t tell me this earlier.”

 

 

 

 

It’s a lot of fun and noise, cooking with his parents while watching _Top 50 Football Matches in History_ (only because his mom made them — as in Archie and Fred, because Jeffrey is an enthusiast — suffer through a marathon of _Say Yes to the Dress_ earlier on). The turkey is already in the oven, slowly roasting for the big dinner. There’s enough mashed potatoes to feed a small town, and now they’re setting plates on the table to have some lunch.

Another funny thing — the loft walls are so thin that they keep listening to all the noise that’s going on at the Keller’s, too. At some point, Jeffrey tells a joke and they can hear Tom Keller laughing (probably unrelated, but still, great timing) — and his stepfather finds it so amusing that he tells Archie to invite their neighbors over for lunch.

Mary reminds Archie not to insist if they say no — they shouldn’t intrude. Anne is never home, so they might want to be alone. Archie goes next door, ringing the bell. He’s still laughing at Jeffrey, who’s screaming _Yes, insist!_ from the apartment, when a woman opens the door.

It’s Kevin’s mom, of course — but that’s not what wipes the smile from Archie’s face almost immediately. In the background, sitting on the couch with her hands on her lap and a straight posture, is Veronica, who was also smiling until the moment she realizes that he’s standing at the door.

“Hi,” Archie manages to say, looking right past Kevin’s mom, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Veronica opens and closes her mouth once, eyes almost wide. “Hi,” she says back, her voice a little high pitched.

Mrs. Keller looks at him with an amused expression — he _thinks_ , because she’s still a little out of focus. “Hi,” she says too. “Who might this heartbreaker be?” she asks, turning around to look at Veronica.

“Archie!” Kevin appears from _somewhere_ , a big, warm smile on his face. “This is Mary’s son, Mom,. He lives next door now. Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Oh, my, you’ve grown up a lot, sweetheart,” Mrs. Keller says, rubbing his arm. “Do you wanna come in?”

“Uh,” Archie _forces_ himself to take his eyes off Veronica, who has gotten up and is smoothing down her purple dress, looking as caught off guard as he is. “No, actually, my — Jeff thought you should join us for lunch. All of you,” he adds, quickly. “If you want, of course. We have a table now.”

 _We have a table now._ It sounded less stupid before he said it out loud. Archie shifts his weight from one leg to another, unable to stand still. “Oh, that would be great,” Mrs. Keller smiles, “but we have a guest. So, I don’t know if —”

“It’s okay, Mom. We’re all friends from school,” Kevin says, wrapping an arm around Veronica. “Besides, V here is so tiny.” He giggles, pressing her closer to his side. Archie looks at them, and his eyes meet Veronica’s for a small moment. It’s enough to make his stomach shrink.

He channels his boy scout self and wears his best face to Mrs. Keller. “There’s space. You’re all welcome.”

It doesn’t take much to convince the Kellers to move lunch next door. They all past through Archie: Mrs. Keller brings a casserole, Mr. Keller takes with him the bottle of wine they were already drinking, and Kevin gives Archie a tap on his back, following his parents.

Veronica is the last to come out of the apartment, holding her coat and purse. She stops right in front of Archie, closing the door behind her. In Archie’s loft, the two families are already greeting each other, unaware that they’re still outside.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, in a small voice. “I didn’t think you’d… If this is too awkward, I can make something up and leav—”

“What?” Archie frowns in confusion. The lyrics to _Veronica is crazy_ come back to his mind, but as he watches her expectant features, and the way she chews on her lower lip, he feels some warm blood going up to his cheeks. Something else comes back to his mind, then: other people also thought he and Cheryl were involved, she wasn’t the only one. There was Kevin, Steve from the team who kept teasing him about it, even _Jeffrey_ said something once. Maybe Ronnie knows about them kissing at that party. He wants to ask her about it, wants to ask _did you really think there was ever anyone else else_ , but holds his tongue. This isn’t the time. “No — C’mon, you should stay. It’s okay.”

Veronica looks at him like she wants to say something, too, and holds her breath. “Thank you,” she mutters, exhaling. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

She smiles his favorite smile, the little one. Archie’s heart starts beating faster, because he’s _that_ idiot.

 

 

 

 

Jeffrey hugs her so tightly, he almost lifts her off her feet.

“Fred, come meet this girl!” he says towards the man who obviously is Archie’s father — the same warm, brown eyes and sweet smile. “She saved Archie’s ass on a history project once.”

“You’re the one who helped him get that A?” it’s Archie’s mom who chimes in, hugging Veronica too as if they were old friends. “Veronica, right? Nice to meet you, sweetie. I’m Mary.”

“Oh, the famous Veronica,” Fred Andrews says, also greeting her with a warm hug. Veronica chuckles, embarrassed, quickly glancing at Archie to see him scratching the back of his head. “Thanks for helping our boy.”

“I didn’t do much,” she says, humbly. His family is so beautiful, so nice, but flashbacks of his confused eyes in the hallway at school keep invading her thoughts. She feels like there’s someone trying to rip her heart out of her chest.

“Oh, of course, you did. Come on, take a seat.” Mary points to a chair at their brand-new table. “You too, Kevin. Archie, honey, can you get some extra plates?”

Kevin sits beside her, looking a lot more comfortable with all the noise and movement than she is. He’s smiling, saying something that she can’t really compute because there’s an empty seat beside her. And as everyone takes their place at the table, it becomes clear that Archie is the one who’s going to sit there once he’s done helping his mother.

Lunch is a tense affair for Veronica.

When Archie does take the seat to her left, he immediately pushes his chair away from hers, even if just an inch. Veronica keeps clutching at the hem of her dress under the table, unsure of what to do with her hands. Kevin seems to fall into easy conversation with the adults — the funny thing is that they’re all loud, talking at the same time, unable to follow one subject till the end, laughing and interrupting each other. She keeps seeing Archie in her peripheral vision — the way the tips of his ears are red, the movement of his jaw as he chews, and he’s obviously used to this environment, too.

Veronica barely touches her food, afraid that if she loosens up she’ll give herself away somehow. The truth is that she can’t remember the last time she’s been around a real family. Celebrations and events in the Lodge household are always seen as _business_ — important people, expensive gifts, and brittle wine drinking. She remembers being a little girl with a bow in her hair, running around her _abuelita’s_ house on Christmas, her daddy sometimes running after her to play some sort of hide and seek — but that time in her life ended so fast. It’s like it never even happened.

The Andrews and the Kellers are good, warm people who blend perfectly around that table, passing dishes to each other and joking around. Everything is soft: the cotton of their T-shirts, the curls of Archie’s mom’s red hair, the beard on Mr. Andrew’s face, the way Mr. and Mrs. Keller hold hands over the table. There are no handmade suits or impeccable, structured dresses, like the purple one she’s wearing.

“Will you excuse me?” Veronica asks, when they start talking about dessert. “I promised I’d call my grandmother. I’m—” She points in the general direction of the rooms.

“Of course, sweetie, take your time. Use Archie’s room.” Mary smiles.

 

 

 

 

Archie’s bed is made the way a seventeen-year-old boy’s bed should be made — the grey duvet wrinkled, the pillows not aligned. Veronica sits down on it, taking a long, deep breath that she’s been holding ever since she saw him on Kevin’s doormat.

She breathes the tension out of her shoulders, trying to block out the sounds coming from the living room. When she feels better, she does get her phone — but she’s not intending to call her parents and talk to her _abuelita_. She tries Jason — Polly Cooper did say he’d call when he was back in Chicago, but that was _yesterday_. She hasn’t had news ever since.

It obviously hits voicemail. Veronica looks down at her phone, wondering if she should try Cheryl — _just_ to try, when there’s a light knock on the open door, startling her a little.

“Hey,” Archie says in a quiet voice. He’s wearing a light grey T-shirt under a dark blue cardigan, and just _looking_ at him makes Veronica’s throat ache. “Are you trying to call the Blossoms?”

Wouldn’t it be easier if he couldn’t see right through her? “Yeah,” she says, tightening her grip on her phone. Archie steps into the room. “No one said anything else, ever since yesterday, and I—” She sighs. “I’m just worried. I want them where I can see them,” she admits, smiling briefly.

Archie nods and sits on the bed next to her. It’s different than sitting next to him at the table — even though their arms don’t brush, she can _feel_ the heat coming from his body, nearly taking over her. “They’re going to be okay, you know. If they’re together now, I seriously doubt anything bad will happen.”

Veronica looks at him — at his profile, because he’s not looking back at her, eyes glued to his hands resting on his lap. There’s a part of her that wishes he wasn’t so nice. “Yeah,” she mutters. Someone has turned the TV on in the living room, because there are new voices added to the loud mixture — there’s also music and applause.

“Oh, I guess it’s time for a _The Voice_ rewatch.” Archie makes a face. Veronica chuckles, and this time he does look at her, his eyes reflecting the light coming from his big window. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah, I— I just need a minute. I’m not… I’m not really used to _that_.” She nods towards the door. Archie’s eyebrows knit together.

“To _The Voice_?”

Veronica feels her expression melting, her lips curling up into a small smile that disappears way too fast. “ _That_ , Archie. Good people.” She looks down. “Your parents, and Jeff, and the Kellers — they’re all so amazing. I don’t know how to act around a real family.” Her voice breaks a little. “I don’t know if I deserve to be here.”

“Wh—” She looks up at him again. “How can you even say that?”

“There are a million reasons.” Veronica feels her eyes well up. “I’m not — I’m not like you. My life, my _world_ , it’s just not — it’s not the same. And I shouldn’t be _here_ with you guys, pretending that I’m deserving of all this kindness.”

“Ronnie…” Archie murmurs under his breath, and his eyes are wide and honest, albeit surprised, and a little sad. The way he looks at her unsettles her, makes her immediately regret opening up. _Great_. Now she’s making him _sad_ because she can’t just let it be.

Veronica swallows everything she’s feeling, using all of her pretense skills to shake her head and force her mouth to smile. “Forget this. We should go back,” she says, her voice a higher pitch than usual, getting up and starting to walk out the room.

“ _Ronnie_.” Archie’s voice comes out firmer, and suddenly he’s holding her wrist, the same way he did back on Monday morning, a tight grip of his fingers. She turns around to realize that he’s also gotten up, and her heart starts _racing_.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have —”

“No, listen to me. Stop, okay?” He lets her wrist go, as if he’s silently letting her know that he’s not going to make her stay if she doesn’t want to, but Veronica can’t move. “Look, I know we haven’t known each other for a long time. I know there’s a lot about you that I just—” He heaves out a breath. “There’s a _lot_ about you that I just don’t understand. But from what I’ve seen, if anyone isn’t deserving of kindness, it’s the people around you. You’re a good person. You care _so much_. Everyone knows it, and that’s why Kevin invited you today. That’s why everyone wanted to help with your party. You’re an amazing friend, Ronnie, and I’m not going to let you talk like that about yourself.”

“Archie…”

There are some red spots showing on his face, right under his cheek bones, on the side of his neck. “Ever since Monday I’ve been trying to figure out why the hell you changed your mind about us. And I think that, maybe there’s been a misunderstanding. Cheryl and I —” Veronica holds her breath and watches as his Adam’s apple goes up and down as he swallows hard. “We got together _once_ , and neither of us really wanted it. Nothing else ever happened between her and me. And nothing _would_ , Ronnie, because ever since I’ve moved to Chicago, there’s only one person I’ve been writing songs about. And it’s you.”

There’s a moment of stillness — the chatter in the living room is loud and disorganized, just like her heartbeats, but in between all of that, Veronica can hear what they’re singing on the television: _let me photograph you in this light, in case it is the last time._ She looks at Archie, at his expectant eyes, at his parted mouth, and she —

She breaks the distance between them, crashing her mouth onto his without much warning. He gasps, surprised, but kisses her back almost immediately, pulling her closer with his hands on her waist, breathing in like he’s trying to breathe _her_ in. Their tongues find each other quickly, and Veronica’s hands wind up around his neck and into his hair.

She can’t stop wanting him. She just — she _can’t_. It’s impossible. She’s wanted him every second between the moment she told him she didn’t and _now_. She’s kissing him hard and deeply, feeling his fingertips sink onto her waist and one of his hands go up her back, and she _still_ wants him. It’s a never-ending craving that she can’t control.

Archie grins into her kiss, allowing them to break for air, and she’s left panting, resting her forehead on his chin. He tilts his head down, kissing her forehead, and then her left cheek, right under her eye, and then a little closer to her nose. When their lips meet again, just brushing against each other, his hand has found its way to the back of her head. The way his fingers press into her scalp makes a shiver come up her spine, and she kisses him one more time, melting away into his arms.

 

 

 

 

They go back to the living room before anyone notices that they’ve taken five minutes way too long. Veronica goes first, because she’s so much better at pretending nothing happened than he is. Archie’s cheeks are so hot that he’s scared his head will burst into flames, so he stops by the bathroom to throw some cold water on his face, quickly glancing at his reflection in the mirror.

He said what he had to say. She listened. She didn’t run away. And she kissed him. _Damn_ , she really did kiss him this time — not kissed _back_. She started it. _She_ made a move. Veronica might be crazy, but the truth is that _he_ is crazy about her. There’s no point in making this harder — maybe she’ll shut him out the next day, _again_ , but he doesn’t care.

His and Kevin’s parents are still at the table, drinking wine and talking about something that Archie doesn’t follow. Veronica’s sitting with Kevin on the couch when Archie goes back to the living room. She has a plate resting on her legs, and it seems like she and Kevin are sharing a piece of lemon meringue pie while Kevin gushes about Adam Levine’s strident voice.

“Don’t get me wrong. I dig all the tattoos, but can he _not_ open his mouth ever again?”

Veronica laughs, quickly glancing at Archie, who is leaning against the wall. He feels his face heat up all over again when she takes a bite of the pie and her tongue comes out of her mouth to lick off some meringue left on her lower lip. “I miss the good old _She Will Be Loved_ days.”

“Of course, you’d love this song.” Kevin rolls his eyes.

“It’s a good song, Kev,” Archie chimes in, walking over to and taking a seat next to Veronica. He feels her shift her body a little, pressing a little closer to his side, and his heart is beating fast all over again. Archie steals some of the meringue on her plate with his thumb, feels Veronica’s eyes on him as he eats it, and knows that their mouths taste the same.

He feels very understanding of Adam Levine and his _I’ve had you so many times, but somehow, I want more_.

 

 

 

 

Mrs. Keller is adamant that Kevin does the dishes in the Andrews’ kitchen — both families need to finish the preparations for their respective Thanksgiving dinners. Veronica, who looks a lot more comfortable around them now than she did during lunch, is engaged in a conversation with his mom about law school. Archie is at the table with his dad, Jeffrey, and Mr. Keller, but he can’t stop watching Ronnie and his mom talk, probably looking as smitten as he feels.

“I should go,” Veronica says at some point, resting a hand on Jeffrey’s back. “I don’t want to disturb you anymore. I’m sure there’s a lot to do,” she adds politely.

“This is nonsense, honey,” Fred says, smiling at her. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner too, if you want.”

Everyone agrees, but Veronica shakes her head. “I already agreed to spend the evening with some other friends. The Lyft is coming already, but everything was lovely — Anne, Mary. I feel really grateful.”

“I’m gonna see you out, V.” Kevin, who has his hands deep into a sink full of soap and water, says. Archie’s taken by a wave of mild panic and inspiration — he’s not about to let her leave without being alone with her again.

He gets up fast, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’ve got it, Kev.”

“Yeah, Kevin,” Mrs. Keller says. “You better not leave these dishes.”

Archie waits, fidgety, as Veronica hugs everyone goodbye. Jeffrey coerces her into taking a piece of lemon meringue pie with her, and they can hear Mary saying _what a lovely girl_ coming through the door once it’s closed, making Veronica blush a little.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Archie asks as they wait for the elevator, holding the pie plate covered in tin foil so she can put on her coat. It’s velvety, longer than her dress, and the exact color of her hair.

“It’s okay. Josie really did invite me to have dinner with her family.” She gets the plate back, and their thumbs brush. Archie doesn’t think she’s telling him the truth. He’ll have to ask about this later, but maybe the ice beneath them is still too thin to walk on with huge steps. “But I — thank you for today, Archiekins.”

The nickname gets him smiling with the corner of his mouth. The elevator gets to their floor with a _ding_ , and Archie holds the door, so that Veronica can walk into it. She rests her back against the mirror, and looks up at him, her eyes searching his face like there’s something she wants to ask.

“Ronnie…” Archie starts, placing one hand on her arm, feeling the velvet under his palm.

“Did you mean what you said back there?” she asks, her voice firm, but her eyes giving away how vulnerable she really feels. He frowns a little. “Because I— I thought that you and Cheryl—”

Archie shakes his head vehemently, interrupting her. “There’s no _me and Cheryl_ , Ronnie.” He takes a step closer to her, almost pressing her back against the mirror. “There’s only me and you,” Archie affirms, looking into her eyes, and hoping that she believes him, because they only have a few floors down and he _really_ wants to kiss her again.

Veronica bites her lower lip, lifting the hand that’s not holding the pie plate to touch his face. Her chest is against his ribcage, and he can feel her strong heartbeats merging with his. She places a thumb under his chin and brings his face closer to hers, until their lips are brushing and their eyes are closing.

Archie holds her face in his hands and kisses her deeper. She still tastes like meringue. Veronica’s hand goes from his chin to the center of his chest, and he presses her harder between his body and the mirror, breathing in the small noises that are coming from the bottom of her throat as they kiss.

She gasps into his mouth once the elevator hits the ground level, and Archie uses all the strength he’s got to pull away from her. He wonders if his parents would be mad if he just got into the car with her and missed Thanksgiving dinner —

Veronica gives him her tiny smile, linking his hand with hers, and pulling him out of the elevator. They walk together to the main door. “You can come back if you want,” Archie says, feeling her fingers between his. “At any time, okay?”

 

“I’ll be alright.” Veronica chuckles, looking up at him and planting a quick kiss on his lips. “Happy Thanksgiving. I’ll call you later.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says, opening the door for her — the Lyft is waiting in front of the building, and he watches as she quickly gets into it, running from the rain. He grins at her when she looks at him through the window, and when she grins back, his smile widens.

 

 

 

 

_There’s only me and you._

The car crosses a bridge and turns onto Lower Wacker Drive. Veronica brings a hand to her mouth, feeling her lips tingling as she remembers everything that just happened, and how it happened. _Only me and you_. She wonders if she’s really been _this_ blind — there are things that still feel off, like him being super depressed for days after that party in Glencoe, or the gift Cheryl gave him right before his performance at the Variety Show, and the lyrics about _little things_ , but —

He’s Archie. He’s not a liar. He’s not a threat. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, not deliberately, and she’s done denying to herself that no one else in the entire world has ever made her feel this way.

 _Only me and you_.

Veronica giggles, biting her thumbnail. Even with the holiday, there’s a bit of traffic in Chicago because of the rain, and she watches the city run by the window, the raindrops coming together in small rivers on the glass.

They’re almost at the Pembrooke when her phone vibrates in her purse. She’s still thinking about Archie and his kiss, his hands on her waist and on her face, when she gets it, but the text that just came in shifts her line of thought completely.

It’s Jason.

**_We’re back._ **

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm baaack after a really short time, which is assume is why you guys disappeared from the comment section? lol i got some anon these days, saying that no one else was going to read the fic, and then i got a lot less comments than i usually do, and i felt that maybe they were right. but i can't do anything but ask you to trust me, right? so, yes, i've said this before, but it's _happening._
> 
> i've been dreaming about writing this thanskgiving chapter for SUCH a long time. it's been on my mind since the very beginning and i can't believe it's finally here. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. fred is going to be here for a while, ronnie met the andrews! archie snapped out of his confusion and veronica decided to stop running. it's a good day, until the blossoms are back. hmmm.
> 
> riverdale is coming back in two days! but this fic ain't going anywhere, so i hope to see you guys around. the feedback is REALLY so important to me, guys, it's a fuel, really. i don't wanna feel demotivated because i really love writing lm. hope to see you guys soon!
> 
> thank you to my beta nic, who's been my rock through all of this and makes lm way prettier.
> 
> songs in this chapter are "she will be loved" by maroon 5, and "when we were young" by adele.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **trigger warning:** some parts of this chapter can induce anxiety. if you feel uncomfortable or feel triggered in some way, please, stop reading. my inbox is open on tumblr @andsmile if you want to talk about it.

_we watch as our young hearts fade into the flood_

 

 

 

Next morning, the heavy rain that washed down the city stops. It’s stupidly early and cold outside, but after spending more time awake than asleep, replaying the events of yesterday in his head until his room got way too warm, Archie decides to put on a sweatshirt and go out for a run along the riverside. 

He’s listening to some hip-hop tune on a playlist called _Run This Town_ and enjoying the views of the Riverwalk — the lights in the buildings slowly being turned on as the sky gets lighter, the clouds breaking apart, so the sun can shine. Chicago has never been more beautiful. 

This silly, romantic notion makes him bite down on his lower lip to prevent the foolish smile on his face from growing too big. But how, exactly, would he be able _not_ to smile? Veronica kissed him. Veronica Lodge kissed him _first_. And then she kissed him last, too, promising that she’d call him later, and then she smiled at him while the car was driving away. 

Crossing the William P. Faley Bridge to go back home, Archie takes a break, fishing his phone out of his pocket. It’s nine, now, which means it’s a slightly more reasonable time to be awake on a holiday, and cars and people are starting to make noise in the city. His chat history with Veronica is still haunted by the Polly Cooper screenshot she sent him and that he purposely ignored — the reason why he thinks it’s okay for him to be starting the conversation. 

 **_morning_** , he writes, fingers hovering above all the hearts in the emoji keyboard. He settles for the blue one, hoping it’s not too much. Veronica always sends him purple hearts, anyway. 

Archie goes down the stairs on the other side, back to the Riverwalk, and resumes his run, not expecting her to answer anytime soon. When he’s again around his building, hair drenched in cold sweat, he decides to stop by the Ground Up coffee shop on the corner, and maybe try a decaf latte. He’s at the counter, checking his options on the chalkboard on the wall when a familiar laugh catches his attention.

He looks over his shoulder to see Kevin at a table in the corner of the café, hands around a paper cup; his eyes wrinkled as he smiles at Moose, who’s showing him something on his phone, brown hair hidden under a green beanie. They look very much like a couple on a date, Kevin’s arm resting on Moose’s chair. 

Archie stands for a second, wondering if he should turn around and leave and not spoil their moment. But before he can turn around, Moose looks up, and their eyes meet. He shifts his posture, squaring his shoulders, and Kevin’s eyes follow. “Oh, hey! Arch!” he says, waving at Archie, who takes off his headphones and comes closer to their table. “Morning!” 

“Morning, Kev,” Archie says, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. “Moose.”

Moose clears up his throat. “Hey, man.”

“Thought we were running together this afternoon.” Kevin maintains his arm on the back of Moose’s chair, not so aware of how uncomfortable Moose looks.

“Yeah, I woke up early though, so I decided to go — Jeff wants to buy a new TV today, and we’re also taking my dad to the airport later. We could go tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Kevin is on his way to sip some of his coffee when he seems to remember something. “Oh, did I tell you?” he asks both boys. “My mom gets to stay a few more days!”

Archie smiles. “Kev! That’s awesome!”

“I know, right?” Kevin turns to Moose, his arm leaving the chair to rest around his shoulders. “Maybe you can meet her this time.” His smile gets smaller but more intimate, and Archie shifts his weight from foot to foot, feeling like he’s not supposed to witness their private smiles. 

Moose probably feels it too, because instead of smiling back or saying something to Kevin, he glances at Archie, as if trying to justify something with his demeanor. He clears his throat, shrugging Kevin’s arm off his shoulder. “Oh, so am I your only friend who hasn’t met your mom yet?” 

It’s clear that Kevin doesn’t care for Moose’s attempt to play it off — he merely keeps smiling. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says reassuringly. “Archie knows all about us.” 

Moose frowns at Kevin. “Yeah,” Archie nods, quickly, “it’s cool, bro. Don’t worry.” 

It’s not  _really_ cool, apparently. Moose turns his body to face Kevin, and Archie holds his breath because he feels like he’s about to witness another thing he shouldn’t. “You didn’t tell me that someone else knew.” 

Kevin’s eyebrows knit together. “Archie is my best friend.” 

“Kev—” Archie tries — witnessing couples arguing always brings him back to when he was younger and hiding under the covers to muffle the sounds of his parents’ marriage falling apart in the living room. Kevin lifts a hand, though, interrupting him. 

“I don’t understand why it has to be such a big secret.” He keeps looking at Moose. “Your _girlfriend_ already knows.”

“Okay. I’m leaving,” Archie announces, but it’s mainly to himself since neither of the other two is really paying attention as Moose says something like  _this is not what this is about. I told you I wasn’t ready for that_. Archie’s eyebrows travel towards his hairline. 

Seems like he’ll just have to drink cocoa again. 

 

 

 

 

Veronica wakes up late. Her body feels strangely relaxed and warm, engulfed by the softness of the duvet, and as she stretches her body, a smile comes to her face. She hides it on one of the pillows, almost ashamed of herself for being so stupidly happy. It’s almost a foreign feeling, after all these months of worrying and disappointment. 

She remembers feeling something similar a couple of years ago, the morning after kissing Reggie in a town car — but this is  _different_. It’s not something that  _could_ become something else. It’s something that already  _is_. The way Archie looked at her after they kissed... The smile that broke their lips apart, Veronica feels like seeing that smile again is the sole mission of her life. 

Reaching out for her phone, she finds a notification with his name — a good morning text accompanied by a heart in his favorite color. She catches herself almost  _giggling_ at it and answers back with a sun and her usual purple heart. 

Archie reads it faster than expected. Her thoughts travel to the pieces of information she still hasn’t shared with him.

 **_just woke up._ ** she writes before he can reply. **_jj texted me saying they’re here. i’ll visit them and let u know what’s going on._ **

**_oh, ok._ ** Archie says. She watches as the three little dots pop up under his text, signaling that he’s typing some more. **_i'm going out with my dad and jeff now. call me later?_ **

**_i will. have fun with your family!_ **

He sends her another blue heart, which Veronica replies with the emoji that blows out a kiss. 

She allows herself to stay a few more minutes in bed, idly checking other forms of social media on her phone, before taking a deep breath and getting up. Inside her head, she lists all the things she needs to do: shower, get ready, have breakfast (mercifully made by Consuelo, who is back at work) and ask Andre to pick up a bouquet of yellow roses that she intends to give to Cheryl. 

The last of her plans, however, is interrupted by the doorman at Thornhill, who is very much sure that there are no Blossoms up in the penthouse. He tells her that Mr. Jason and Miss Cheryl  _did_ arrive back from their trip yesterday, but only to get a car and drive away, not returning ever since. And no, their parents weren’t with them. 

Back at the Pembrooke, she tries calling Jason, but he doesn’t answer. She texts him asking  ** _well, where are you then?,_ ** her mood turned sour when she realizes he reads her message but says nothing. She’s annoyed with him and all this secrecy, but she’s also just  _worried_. Would it hurt for him to give her some concrete news on her best friend? 

She wonders if she should tell Archie about it, but she doesn’t want to spread her concern and ruin his day with his father. So she only stares at the yellow bouquet, bright against the dark wood of the dining table, and decides to ruin someone else’s day.

“V!” Betty answers on the second ring, sounding excited to hear from her.

“Hey, B.” Veronica softly touches the yellow petals of the flowers and bought for Cheryl. “How’s the holiday going?”

“Well, it’s actually going well. My grandma is happy because Juggie is the only one that can finish the enormous amount of food she puts on our plates, and Lake Pentwater is already frozen. So, we might do some skating tomorrow.”

Veronica smiles a little. Betty’s presence, even through the phone, does bring her some sort of familiar serenity. “Has Hal already taken Jughead to your grandad’s garage to show off the shotgun collection?”

Betty laughs. “It was the first thing he did once we got here. Then, they took him on a _boy’s night out_ with Chic, so I guess he’s kind of approved by everyone now... As _approved_ as one will ever be in the Cooper household, anyway.”

“Do you have anything interesting to tell me, so I can tell Kev?” Veronica changes her voice to something more suggestive. Betty’s cheeks turning pink is almost audible.

“Well, nothing happened, but _some things_ happened,” Betty mumbles, making Veronica lift her eyebrows. “Not _like that_ , just— I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Betty Cooper, you better text me all about it as soon as we hang up,” Veronica teases. She can feel Betty’s grin on the other side of the line and wonders if she wants to share the things that happened _to her_ with her best friend. Veronica _could_ , of course, tell Betty what happened between her and Archie. She’d be happy for them — she’s been endorsing the possibility ever since they rekindled their friendship — but Veronica doesn’t think she’ll be able to explain to Betty what _that_ means.

Because, honestly? How could she even tell Betty something she doesn’t fully understand? There are no words that could be said except for  _he’s stolen my heart. What do I do now?,_ and Veronica is not ready for the answer to that question.

( _Only me and you_ , he had said. Maybe he also doesn’t want anyone else to know.)

Betty takes a deep breath, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Juggie also… He told me some things, about what’s going on in his life. I think I’m starting to understand him better, now.”

“Oh, B.” Veronica feels the warmth in her voice. So, Jughead listened to her advice. Somehow, it makes her feel more at ease. “I’m glad he’s opening up to you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Betty’s voice is soft. “How was your Thanksgiving? Kevin said you had dinner with the McCoy’s.”

Veronica is surprised by how fast her little white lies can spread. “Yeah, I spent some time with them. It was alright.” She bites her lower lip. “Jason and Cheryl are back.”

“Yeah, Polly told me they landed yesterday.”

“They’re not at Thornhill. I tried to visit this morning, but apparently, they weren’t there. I just want to see them.”

“Hey, I know, and you will,” Betty reassures her. “Obviously, something is going on, so I guess there’s nothing else you can do right now, V, except be patient.” Veronica hears her laughing. “Which I know is not your best quality.”

“Are you kidding? Patience is my middle name.” Veronica heaves out a breath, the frustration tensing up the muscles in her shoulders. “I guess I just have to find something to do until Jason says they’re back at the penthouse.”

 

 

 

 

Back in Riverdale, Black Friday was just another day. During freshman year, Archie spent three hours in a line at the GameStop in Greendale to keep Dilton company, but mostly, Archie avoided venturing out to any shops on this date, enjoying only local promotions, like three burgers and two milkshakes at Pop’s for the price of one. 

But now, Archie lives in a big city. He lives in a big city with _Jeffrey_ , with whom he and Fred have agreed to spend their morning. _Jeffrey_ , who is apparently a Black Friday enthusiast. The Andrews men didn’t really know they’d be driven to the nearest Walmart, so the loft could have a brand-new, too-many-inches television, for less than four hundred bucks, to join the already brand-new table.

“We could’ve just waited for Cyber Monday,” Archie dares to mention, while trying not to bump into anyone. The Walmart Supercenter Jeff chose is around Miller Meadow, and it’s, fortunately, not as packed as it could be, but still uncomfortably full.

“We  _could_ , buddy. It’s true.” Jeffrey agrees, but his eyes and hands tell a whole different story as he analyzes every single detail of the two screens he’s trying to decide between. “But how can you be sure that you’re getting a good deal if you don’t get to _see_ what you’re buying?”

“He does have a point,” Fred says, his reading glasses on as he tries to understand what’s written on the back of a cardboard package. “I can’t figure out what is this for.”

“It’s a Fitbit, Dad.” Archie leans against a washing machine.

“Well, thank you, Sherlock.” His father points at the name on the box, his mouth twisted into a sarcastic shape.

Archie chuckles and then proceeds to explain how a Fitbit works to his dad, while Jeffrey keeps on contemplating if he can really notice the difference between a 4K and an FHD TV. Fred is confused about why anyone would  _need_ a bracelet that tracks how many steps they take, and Archie just shrugs, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

He had sent Kevin a message a little while after his encounter with him and Moose at the coffee shop, asking if everything’s alright, but still no answer. Veronica also didn’t give him any news about Jason and Cheryl, and their chat history still ends with the last emoji she sent him, a kissy face blowing out a heart. Archie catches himself smiling at their short conversation from earlier on.

He wonders if he’ll see her soon, if he’ll see her later today, or maybe tomorrow morning. He wonders about the clothes she’ll be wearing; about the lipstick shade that’ll be on her lips and that he’ll want to kiss away.

“They need a gadget to warn you that you’re looking at your phone like an idiot,” Fred teases, bringing Archie back to reality. His face is warm, and he’s sure that his goddamn redhead genes have him blushing again.

“Sorry,” Archie scratches the back of his head, “it’s just a —” _just a girl_ , he means to say. But it’s  _not_ just a girl, his dad knows it too. In fact, he knows  _exactly_ which girl.

Fred leans against another washing machine by Archie’s side, turning the Fitbit box between his hands. “I take it you two have talked things out?”

“Yeah. Ronnie thought — _well_. There was a misunderstanding, but it's all cleared up, now.” Archie puts his phone in his pocket again. “I got it wrong, too. She does want to be with me. I mean, she is a little complicated. So, there’s no way I can be completely sure just yet, but she definitely _feels_ something.” He wants to smile widely when he says that, but he bites the inside of his bottom lip instead. “I really like her, dad.”

Fred puts one hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a little. “That’s great. But take it slow, Archie. No one’s getting married, okay?” The teasing tone in his voice makes Archie chuckle. “I’m serious, son. I could see that Veronica is a great girl, but after everything that’s happened…” He blows out a breath. Archie’s smile fades a little from his lips. “I just want you to remember that it’s okay to take care of your heart now, alright?”

Archie nods. “I promise I will.”

“Also…” Fred swallows, his hand pressing on Archie’s shoulder just a little bit harder. “I can see that you’ve got a good thing going on in Chicago right now, with your mom and Jeff, therapy, your friends, Veronica… But I just want you to know that you can come back to Riverdale whenever you want, son. Your home there will always be waiting for you.”

 

 

 

 

In an honest attempt to be  _patient_ , Veronica doesn’t text Jason again.

She decides to be productive instead, finishing all her homework and even setting up a calendar with college application deadlines. Her parents are Yale advocates, _of course_ , but Veronica would rather not follow their footsteps (not to mention, living in New Haven sounds like a nightmare) and has her sights on Harvard.

She writes down all of her plans and dates, very focused on organizing her future so she can ignore her present, but everything is over too soon — it’s not even lunchtime once she’s done, and all that’s left is no new messages from any of the Blossom twins.

Veronica calls Archie, eventually — she did promise she would, anyway — and ends up asking him to come over and keep her company until they have any news. But even  _that_ doesn’t work out: Archie says he’s sorry, but he was still hanging out with his dad who, of course, is his priority right now. She’s slightly disappointed but understands, and he promises that he’ll call her later. She does believe him, but there’s a part of her (the whiny, spoiled brat part of her that still flares up sometimes) that just wants him  _now_. 

 _Patience, Veronica,_ she finds herself saying as they hang up, and her mouth is already forming a pout. She curses Jason under her breath (it is his fault that she’s so anxious, anyways) and has the brilliant idea to set up a calendar for Jughead as well — it falls into the realm of her responsibilities, him getting into a school in NYC, so he and Betty can live happily ever after.

Mid-afternoon, Veronica is sitting in the living room with her feet tucked under a blanket, deciding that she’ll give Wuthering Heights another go, when Consuelo comes from the kitchen to announce that a friend of hers is coming up. Veronica frowns — no one texted her saying that they’d come to visit. She wonders, her heart beating just a little faster, if it’s Cheryl.

There’s no time to change into something nicer than her white T-shirt and satin pajama pants, or to fix her hair — she just puts it up in a bun, heading to the entrance once the doorbell rings.

“Hey.” It’s not Cheryl. It’s Archie, his face a little red from the cold wind outside, white headphones around his neck. He’s carrying a white plastic bag, and he smiles a little in face of her surprise, dimples around his mouth. “Is it too late to bring Thanksgiving leftovers?”

She wants to punch him for not giving her a warning — she could’ve at least changed back into the carefully planned outfit from this morning, or touched up her makeup — but his face is so pretty. He’s wearing a dark grey hoodie, and she can’t help but bite on her lip to hold back the big smile about to form on her mouth. “No,” Veronica says, taking the bag from his hand. “You look cute.”

Archie chuckles, scratching the back of his head, those adorable red spots forming under his cheekbones. “Are you saying that just because I brought you food?”

“Mmm, maybe,” she smiles, resting a hand on his forearm and tiptoeing to give him a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Come in.”

She takes him by the hand, their fingers immediately intertwining. Veronica remembers doing this before, leading him into the penthouse some months ago, keeping quiet so as not to wake up her parents, feeling her skin on fire where they were touching. She still feels it, but it’s a different kind of fire now, something likely to take a lot longer to extinguish.

Archie looks around, as if drinking in her home for the first time (at least in daylight). They walk through the dining room towards the kitchen, briefly letting go of his hand while asking Consuelo to store the leftovers in the fridge. “Consuelo, este es Archie, de la escuela,” she says, when the maid looks at Archie a little suspiciously. “Can you say hello in Spanish?”

“Uh. I guess. _Hola!_ ” Archie waves, with a smile, and he’s so adorable that even Consuelo’s strong features soften a little.

But she does make a real effort to warn Archie (in English) that  _papa says no boys in Miss Veronica’s room_. He acquires an expression of mild-panic, and Veronica just rolls her eyes and laughs, telling Consuelo that they’ll be in the living room. 

It’s where she takes him, anyways — they sit together on the same couch she was on before, a bit of space between them, and he grabs the book she was reading, frowning as he skims through pages. “AP Lit?” he asks.

“Yep,” Veronica says, carefully folding the blanket she was using. “This one is really intense. I thought you’d only be free in the evening?”

“Yeah. I was going to drive my dad to the airport, but then he kinda convinced me I should let it go and come to see you.” He shrugs, putting the book away. “I did have lunch with him, though, so I guess that’s okay. Mom’s back to work, so we spent a lot of time with Jeff. I got new headphones!”

He takes them off from around his neck, showing them to her. Veronica smiles, bringing her legs up, pulling her knees to her chest. She does notice that Archie’s smile fades a little bit.  “Are you sad that he’s leaving?”

He shrugs again. “A little but I’ll see him on Christmas, so that’s not too far away.” He looks at her, brown eyes optimistic, always trying to find the bright side in every situation. Veronica only wishes she could be as positive as he is, that she could see the world through the same rose-colored lenses. “How was dinner at Josie’s?”

His pointed look gives away that he knows — or at least imagines — that there was no dinner at Josie’s. Veronica bites the inside of her mouth, lips curling up. She might feel busted, but the truth is that she just doesn’t want to lie to Archie. “I’m sure it was great, but I stayed home eating sushi, binge-watching The Handmaid’s Tale, and thinking about the Blossoms.”

“Ronnie…” he starts, placing a hand on her knee, on top of her own hand. “Why didn’t you stay with us, then? My parents invited you, and so did Kevin. You didn’t have to spend Thanksgiving alone.”

“C’mon, Archiekins.” She turns her hand under his, gently pressing her fingertips into his palms. “Kevin’s mom is around once in a blue moon, and you didn’t get to spend a lot of time with your dad this year. I wouldn’t really feel comfortable.” His bottom lip is slightly sticking out as his mouth forms into a pout, a bit sad. Veronica takes in a deep breath — she doesn’t want him to be upset about this. “Hey, it was a conscious decision. Besides…” She lets his hand go, so she can place two fingers under his chin, turning his face towards her. Her voice drops a pitch, and she slides her index finger up his jawline. “You would be too distracted if I stuck around.”

Almost immediately, Archie’s pout turns into a small smirk at the corner of his lips, his hand just a little heavier on her knee. “Distracted by _what_?”

Veronica brings her hips a little closer to him, putting her legs on his lap. She pulls his chin to her until their lips brush against each other, feeling his hand going up from her knee to the outer part of her right thigh. She parts her mouth when she feels the tip of his tongue on her bottom lip, and kisses him deeper, her hand going from his face to his hair. 

Archie makes a small sound when she grazes his scalp with her fingernails, and it makes her smile, breaking the kiss. She barely has time to gasp for air before he’s kissing her again, hand a little higher up her leg, the other one cradling her head. She might be really good at _keeping it cool_ , but the truth is that _this_ , kissing him, has been in the back of her mind throughout the whole evening, night, morning, until this very moment.

She hooks her fingers around the collar of his hoodie, bringing his body closer to hers. It’s Archie’s turn to break the kiss by smiling, and their noses bump together as they open their eyes. His are bright. Veronica’s heart is beating so fast it hurts inside her chest. She’s lost to the look on his face, to the smile forming on his lips against hers — she could get dangerously used to this.

“Hey,” he says against her mouth.

She smiles a little, placing one hand on his left cheek. “Hey.”

Archie kisses her again, nibbling on her bottom lip, and then kisses her some more, his wet lips traveling up her jawline, towards her ear. Yesterday, he didn’t kiss her anywhere but her mouth. But now, he’s searching for her neck, gently pulling on her hair, the way he’s always done, ever since the first time, and she finds herself inhaling sharply, her skin covered with goosebumps that come from the bottom of her spine.

“By the way, you look cute too,” he whispers on her ear, his hand leaving her hips to rest on her waist, the movement lifting her T-shirt just a little bit, his fingertips finding the stripe of warm skin under the hem of her shirt.

Veronica opens her mouth to answer, but a loud sound that’s not Archie’s breathing interrupts her thoughts. She quickly pulls away from Archie, taking her legs off of his lap and straightening her posture, just in time for Consuelo to show up exactly where they’re at, vacuuming the living room’s rug like she doesn't have a care in this world.

 _Of course_.

Archie has grabbed the book back and is pretending to read it, except it’s upside down. His whole face is red, and his lips are stained with her lipstick and swollen. Veronica lifts her feet when Consuelo comes to vacuum right under them. She’s also  _singing_ , and between all the noise, Veronica can recognize some Catholic song that the choir used to sing at Sunday masses.

Veronica raises her eyebrows, trying to seem a little  _dangerous_ and to silently ask Consuelo to  _leave,_ but the maid glances back with determination.

She sighs. Archie’s face is going back to its normal color, and his eyes are on her, as if waiting for her to tell him what the next move will be. “We should go somewhere else. I’m not gonna get away with having a boy over.”

He clears up his throat. “But aren’t you like, still grounded?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Veronica taps Archie’s shoulder before getting up. “Just wait here until I change. We’ll go get coffee or something.”

“I won’t move.”

Consuelo does turn off the vacuum cleaner once Veronica gets up and starts walking towards her bedroom. Beneath her own frustration, she laughs when she hears Archie trying his hand at another  _hola_.

 

 

 

 

True to his word, Archie doesn’t move.  
  
Consuelo dusts off the coffee-table and side-eyes him for what it feels like an eternity after Veronica leaves. He tries smiling at her, the smile that often got Mrs. Grimmet pinching his cheeks when he was a little boy trying to get out of trouble, but it doesn’t seem to score him any points. Consuelo doesn’t smile back, although she does seem to be convinced that he won't dare follow Veronica to her room and moves the cleaning to somewhere else. 

As soon as Consuelo is out of sight, Archie can breathe again. Looking at the book in his hands, he only then realizes that it’s been upside down this entire time. It makes him laugh a little — he really is helpless, isn’t him? 

Veronica takes about fifteen minutes to come back, which is a good thing, since it allows Archie to regain his composure. But when he hears her heels against the wooden floor, announcing that she's ready to go; and turns around to glance over the couch and look at her, his heart skips a beat  _again_. The composure is gone. 

She was beautiful before, with satin pajama pants under his palms, and she’s beautiful now, wearing skin-tight black jeans, high-heeled boots, and an oversized emerald sweater. Her hair is falling down her shoulders, and Archie can’t help his lips from parting as he takes in her soft smile. _That girl_ , she was kissing him just a few minutes ago.

“Let’s go?” she asks, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

Archie gets up, his new headphones in hand, and walks over to her. Veronica looks up at him, resting her hands on his forearms when he wraps his arms around her waist. So many times, he has leaned down to kiss her cheek, and now he can lean down to kiss her lips. 

He wouldn’t want Consuelo to come and vacuum  _him_ up, so it’s quick, just a peck. But it does get Veronica smiling. “Let’s go,” he says.

 

 

 

 

It’s barely five in the afternoon, but the sun is already going down, painting the sky with pale orange and pink. They do kiss a little more in the elevator, enough to get Archie’s blood running warm in his veins again, so the cold air outside is welcoming.

He has Jeff’s truck parked nearby, but Veronica says it’s only a ten-minute walk from the Pembrooke to the place she wants to take him. They put on gloves and instinctively link their fingers together, walking hand-in-hand down North Broadway Street. There’s a smile that Archie can’t seem to wipe off his lips. 

The place she takes him to is called Maison Marcel, a French bakery with a white fence and fairy lights decorating it. The interior is nicely decorated, with white brick walls, small tables, and a window full of fresh pastries and macarons. Veronica picks a table for them as Archie puts their coats on the rack, and it hits him when he comes back to sit beside her, that this might be some sort of date. There’s even a vase with white flowers in the center of their small, round table.

“Are you hungry?” Veronica asks, glancing down at the menu. “I’m mainly here for the _liégeois_ , but they have some sandwiches as well.”

Archie puts his arm behind her, on their two-seat couch backrest. “A little.” He watches her face as she reads the items on the menu. “I’ll just have a strawberry tart and some water,” he says.

“Do you want your latte?” She turns to face him, so pretty it hurts. Archie shakes his head. “Alright. My treat,” she says, giving him her little smile, leaning in to kiss him before getting up so she can order at the counter. 

She comes back only a couple of minutes later, saying that the waiter is going to bring their orders to the table soon.

“I really think Consuelo and I bonded,” Archie teases.

“I could see that.” Veronica laughs. “She’ll probably say something about redheads being the Devil’s work. She did it, the first time she met Jason.”

“He’s probably better at Spanish than I am, though. I didn’t know you were fluent.”

“I grew up speaking both English and Spanish.” She shrugs, sitting a little closer to him. “It runs in the family. Some of the older Lodges can’t even speak English.”

“Where’s your family from?”

“Mexico. Our last name was originally _Lagares_. But when my great-grandfather came from Guadalajara to New York during the Mexican Revolution, he changed it to Lodge, so they wouldn’t be discriminated,” she explains. “He started Lodge Industries back then, but it was just a small business. Then, my  _abuelitos_ kept working on it, but it was my father who expanded it and took it to the Midwest. Now, Chicago is our most important unit, and the one in New York City is just secondary.”

“Seems like your dad worked a lot,” Archie says. He knows that  _family_ is somewhat of a sensitive topic around Veronica — he’s never  _seen_ her father, but he remembers the weird things he was talking about all those months ago, when Archie was hiding in Veronica’s room. Archie has already had this talk with himself, about how it  _doesn’t matter_ if there’s something else going on with her family, but he honestly just wants to know a little more about them.

“Yeah. He did.” Her expression shifts — her smile withers a little, and her eyes travel to nowhere as if she’s been transported to some other time. Archie moves the arm behind her and touches the back of her head, fingers diving in between her hair strands. It does bring her back, but she looks rather unhappy now. Archie keeps on caressing her hair.

“It’s okay to miss them, Ronnie,” he says, very softly. She smiles again — the one that doesn’t reach her eyes — and lifts her shoulders in a shrug.

“I don’t,” Veronica says. “That might be the worst part.”

He opens his mouth, but before he can find something to say, the waiter arrives and sets their order on the table in front of them. Veronica’s dessert is somewhat extravagant, a smooth chocolate cream in a tall glass with whipped cream on top. Archie’s tart is smaller, six strawberries over a round crust. Veronica changes the subject, as she gets her phone out of her purse, taking a picture of her  _liégeois_ that she says she’ll send to Betty.

“It’s a place we come to a lot.” She sends the picture and then gets a spoon. “This one and Nookie’s, for breakfast. I’ll take you there, next time.”

“Okay.” _Next time_. Archie smiles to himself — not that he was expecting this to be a one-time thing, but it’s nice to know that she intends to keep it going, too. He takes a strawberry with his fork. “Here, try mine.”

Veronica opens her mouth when he feeds her the strawberry with his fork. She gets some of her chocolate cream on the spoon and gives it to him. The chocolate melts in his tongue as she watches him with expectant eyes, waiting for a verdict. Archie wants to ask if this is what it looks like — a date. Are they dating now? Is this for real? It’s the first time since God knows when that he’s done that.

“It’s delicious,” he says, bringing his face closer to hers, his hand still in her hair. Veronica watches his face for a second before closing the distance between them, capturing his lips with hers.  It’s the oldest cliché in the book, but she does taste like strawberries. He cups her face with his hand, deepening the kiss, and they forget about their desserts for a while.

 

 

 

 

It’s even colder once they start walking back to the Pembrooke — they can see their breath. Archie swings an arm around Veronica’s shoulder, and she presses to his side as they fall into step. “You’ll probably get vacuumed by Consuelo if you come up.” 

Archie smiles, pressing a kiss into her hair. “My mom and Jeff will definitely be back from the airport at any time now.”

“Well,” Veronica sighs, “I guess it’s a good thing we have the truck?”

Archie stops walking for a second, and she turns around to face him, lifting one eyebrow as she usually does. Her smile is a little devilish, and Archie’s cheeks inevitably heat up. But before he can say anything, Veronica’s phone starts to ring. 

She frowns once she sees who’s calling — Archie notices that there’s no name on her screen, only numbers. Veronica takes a step away from him, so she can take the call. “Hello?” Her whole face changes then, lightening up. “Hey, JJ!” The mentioning of Jason’s name gets Archie heaving out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He shoves his hands into his pockets, waiting for Veronica as she talks to the Blossom twin. “Okay. No, Archie’s with me. Yeah, we’ll be right there.”

“Is everything okay?” Archie asks once she hangs up.

“I think so. He said we can come and visit them,” Veronica says, still checking something on her phone. “But they’re not at Thornhill, they’re staying somewhere else. He texted me the address. Will you go with me?”

She bites on her lower lip, looking a little apprehensive. Archie feels the same, somehow. He’s been worried about Jason and Cheryl for the whole week, but he’s also… He hasn’t talked to Cheryl ever since Halloween. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. It doesn’t matter. “I’ll drive you. Where is it?”

 

 

 

 

The directions in Jason’s text seem to be taking them to Elk Grove Village, a forty-five-minute drive from The Pembrooke. Veronica has the bouquet of yellow roses on her lap, red cellophane paper wrapped around the stems, protecting her from the thorns. 

She sneaks glances over at Archie, who is driving in silence, his grip firm on the steering wheel. The permanent frown between his eyebrows give away that he’s also having questions about what’s going on: why would the Blossoms come back to town, get a car and some clothes at Thornhill in the morning, and then check into a small motel in the middle of nowhere? 

It’s probably just anxiety, but the smell of the roses is making her quite nauseous. She cracks a window open and takes in a deep breath. Archie probably senses her discomfort, because he reaches out one hand to rest on her shoulder, squeezing the tense muscles a little. She instinctively closes her eyes with the sensation, turning her face a bit, so she can plant a kiss on his knuckles. 

Archie caresses her face briefly, and says, “I’m sure they’re okay,” before bringing his hand back to the steering wheel. 

The drive is mostly quiet. The traffic augments as they get closer to the airport. Veronica watches the airplanes take off, one after the other, before they’re reduced to bright spots in the night sky. After they pass O’Hare, the GPS takes them eight miles, heading south, bordering the Busse Forest.

“I think this is it,” Archie mentions, slowing down as they approach a motel right off the road. A big, red neon sign reads _Red Roof Inn_ , and the building does, indeed, have a red roof. Veronica can’t shake the hollow feeling in her stomach as Archie pulls into the parking lot. She knows that this isn’t the kind of place the Blossoms would ever stay. “What room did he say they were in, again?”

“He didn’t.” They leave the car at the same time, similar concerned expressions on their faces. Veronica grabs her phone to recheck the message Jason sent with the address, but there is no room number. She presses the call button to try and reach him, but only gets a busy tone. “I thought they’d just be waiting for us outside, I don’t know.” She bites her lower lip, apprehensive. 

Veronica wraps her hand around the bouquet so hard, that the thorns almost cut through the cellophane. Archie notices, taking it from her, and suggesting they try the front desk in a soothing voice. 

She agrees but tries to call again. “I swear to God, I’m gonna murder J—” 

“Guys! Thank God, you’re here!” 

Both Archie and Veronica turn around when they hear Jason’s voice — he’s standing at one of the red doors, his phone in hand. His red hair is messy, and he’s paler than usual, with dark circles under his eyes. Veronica holds her breath — she  _does_ want to murder him, but she’s also very relieved that he’s alive. 

He closes the door, walking fast to where they’re standing in the parking lot. Archie frowns in confusion, and Veronica feels her chest tighten. “Where’s Cheryl?” she asks, once the twin gets closer. 

“I think she’s heading back to the city,” Jason says, barely catching his breath — he doesn’t even blink or look properly at his friends. He just heads to the passenger seat of Jeff’s car. “C’mon, we have to go!”

“Jason, what _the fuck_ is going on?!” Veronica asks, getting into the backseat after a small moment of confusion. The radio automatically turns on when Archie starts the car — there’s some ballad from the eighties playing, and it doesn’t fit, as soundtracks go. There’s a weird, crispy sound when the wheels run over the bouquet that Archie must have dropped in the parking lot, at some point.

“Archie, take a right and then left, onto the road. The tracker says she’s heading north on I-290.”

“Why does your car have a tracker?” Archie sounds confused.

Veronica is on the edge of her seat, feeling like a kid who’s being ignored by her stupid parents. “Jason, I fucking swear to G—”

“Look, the last few days have been crazy. I went to Europe to get her, and things got really out of control with our parents— And now we got into a fight, and she shouldn’t be driving.”

“This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Yeah, well, _it doesn’t_. All I know is that dear mom and dad disowned us. I’m not even sure if we’ll be living with them anymore. I don’t want to be home when they get here. I asked Polly for some cash, so we could stay somewhere until we figure out our next— Fuck, okay, Archie, take this lane— we’ll be turning right in a mile.”

“What do you mean your parents _disowned_ you?!” Veronica asks, her heart pulsing in the pit of her stomach, the nauseous feeling coming back. Archie follows the instructions given by Jason. The road he takes is the one that leads them through the Busse Forest. It’s pitch-black when they get off the highway, and the wilting trees passing fast around them are quite haunting.

“I told them I couldn’t give a shit about the family business. And then Cheryl, she — wait, the car stopped moving.”

“What?” Archie asks, slowing down a little. “Maybe it’s the signal?”

Jason raises the phone a little above the eye level as if the height could change something. “I don’t know. I think she stopped at some place. But what the hell, it’s in the middle of—”

“Give me that.” Annoyed, Veronica propels her body forward, grabbing the phone from Jason’s hand. There’s a dark satellite map on the screen, and the Blossom car is signalized as a green, blinking dot. Archie needs to slow down even more as the asphalt beneath the wheels starts to get bumper, turning into gravel. “This can’t be right. It’s not even a few miles away. We would’ve seen her drive right in front of us if she had stopped here.”

“Maybe we should try to refresh the— Archie!!! Look out!!!”

When Veronica was about six years old, she was in the backseat of a town car with her mother. They were singing _Al Tambor_ together. She can’t remember where they were going, but she does remember going slower and slower until the traffic was moving at a crawl. Hermione stopped singing. Peeping out the window, Veronica saw a passenger car all banged up and shredded, red and blue lights from the sirens reflecting on shattered glass. There was something else sticking through the windshield, and Veronica only realized it could be the driver once Hermione covered her eyes with her hands and told her not to look.

“Pobre alma. Que Dios tenga piedad,” Hermione said, keeping her hand in front of Veronica’s eyes until the town car started moving faster, and the sound of the sirens were just distant echoes. “Let’s say a prayer for Virgin Mary, mija.”

It’s just a piece of metal, the size of a cat. Archie manages to avoid it, quickly changing the direction of the car. The three of them are breathing fast as Archie pulls over on the side of the road, and the headlights show that there is more metal strewn all over the road. With the sudden change of direction, she’s dropped Jason’s phone with the blinking green dot, but they don’t need the tracker anymore to find Cheryl’s car.

The headlights are bright enough to light up the whole area, but Veronica finds herself in a dark, infinite void. There’s nothing and no one around her — nothing except the red Lexus, rolled over on the opposite side of the road, smashed and shattered.

Someone’s opened Jeff’s truck door, and the air comes in cold, smelling like smoke and gasoline. Someone says her name, _Veronica_. Someone pleads for God’s help. And someone screams.

“CHERYL!”

It’s only later that Veronica will realize that she was the one screaming.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, my loves! i'm back after this unintentional hiatus, and i really hope you're still around and with me. s3 of riverdale's been weirdly enjoyable in my point of view, even though it gets dumber and dumber, but there was no new episode this week, and i hope that this chapter helps with the withdrawal!
> 
> i know, you must be quite weirded out by the cliffhanger, and yes, it is what it is. i can't say anything except that i consider next chapter to be sort of a "season finale" of LM (but not series finale, don't worry), meaning that some arcs will end and others will start. varchie continue to be on the same page, this chapter, which is nice for you i guess? i look forward to know your opinion!
> 
> thank you so much for the continuous support. thank you for all the love. we'll see each other here or on my tumblr, @andsmile! thank you nic for being the best beta reader ever, and for my best friend lauren who helped me with the accident reaction.
> 
> song at the beginning is "waves", by dean lewis. a rd classic!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **trigger warning:** this chapter deals with the aftermath of a car accident, so it deals with blood and some other bad things. if you feel uncomfortable or feel triggered in some way, please, stop reading. my inbox is open on tumblr @andsmile if you want to talk about it.

_coming from the cold, buried under heat_

 

 

 

 

Archie stumbles out of the truck. Maybe they all do — he can’t process.

The first thing he notices is the smell. Burnt rubber. Scorched ground. His stomach clenches when he opens his mouth, swallowing the cold air around them. It tastes like the metal spread all over the road. Like the million fragments of glass reflecting off the headlights.

There’s red hair in the middle of the wreckage.

There’s a heavy hand crushing his chest.

There’s movement in his peripheral vision — Jason, who’s standing by the truck’s passenger door, his grip on it so strong that his knuckles are white. Archie remains in the same place, petrified — his brain can’t get around any of it.

And then, Veronica screams.

She screams her best friend’s name, and it’s one of the most terrible sounds Archie has ever heard in his life. It’s petrifying, lacerated. It explodes in his ears and echoes in his brain.

Veronica passes him, suddenly, running to the smashed car without warning, and Archie comes back to himself, all at once. He _finally_ understands what’s going on.

“VERONICA!” He thinks he yells, running until he’s right in front of her, stopping her with his own body. His heart is finally beating again, reverberating inside his ribcage. Veronica tries to fight him, but she’s got nothing on his bigger frame. He holds her still. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t—” Veronica clutches at his t-shirt. The next logical step comes to his brain. “Call 911!” he says, letting her go, so he can quickly approach the Lexus.

“Cheryl, _oh, my God_ , Cher—”

“Veronica! Stay away from here! Call 911! Jason!”

Jason doesn’t move. He looks like a ghost. Like he’s the one in the middle of all that damage. Archie wastes no time, kneeling by the driver side door, beside the flipped car. There’s smoke coming out through the damaged window, but he can see it’s only gas from the deployed airbags.

A stupid memory from some first aid class he attended while taking his DMV test comes back to his mind: no smoke, no fire — good. This is good.

 _You can do this_ , he thinks. But then, he looks inside the car, and—

Archie closes his eyes for one second. Just one second. It’s not a matter of _can_ or _can’t_. He _needs_ to do this. He needs to be strong. He needs to be strong for Jason and for Veronica. He’s the only one that’s able to help Cheryl right now. There is no one else here, just him. He _has_ to do this.

Opening his eyes, he dares to look inside the car again. Cheryl’s upside-down, being held in place by her seatbelt, her hair partially covering her face. Archie feels his eyes prickle with tears as he searches for more damage. She hit her head at some point. There’s a bleeding wound on her forehead, glass cuts on her face and neck — probably more he can't see.

He holds his breath for a second, mouth filled with salty saliva. There’s a big chunk of glass piercing her abdomen.

 _Please, be breathing._ Archie reaches out his trembling hands. The remaining, jagged glass in the window rips the long sleeve of his shirt and cuts through the skin, but he ignores the pain. _Please, please, don’t die._

Whatever greater power is out there, they’re hearing his plea, because he feels feeble, warm air coming out of her nostrils. “She’s breathing.” He mutters, or maybe he shouts. Behind him, he can hear Veronica’s desperate voice talking on the phone. “She’s alive!”

Archie swallows hard. He really wants to touch her face, but he knows he’s not supposed to. “Cheryl, it’s Archie. I don’t know if you can hear me but —” He feels his voice breaking. There’s a burning sensation in his arm. “You’re gonna be okay. We’re not leaving you. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? I promise.”

Beneath the sound of his loud heartbeat, he hears Veronica’s voice in the background, talking to Emergency Services. _“Please, come fast,”_ and _“You have to hurry,”_ are the things she repeats, like some sort of mantra. It’s _almost_ soothing. Cheryl’s alive, and they’re coming. They’ll be here fast enough.

Archie feels himself sinking onto the floor, not sure of what to do next, but there’s movement beside him, footsteps and the air shifting around him when he notices that Jason has finally come closer to the car.

He’s alert again, adrenaline coming back to his muscles as Jason falls to his knees beside him. “Cheryl,” Archie hears Jason gasp. His eyes fill in an instant as he looks at Jason’s expression and finds only devastation.

“She’s breathing,” he says it again as if it’s the only solace he can give Jason right now. Archie wants to repeat all the things he just said to Cheryl — but Jason reaches out a hand, obviously urging to touch his sister, and Archie finds strength again, grabbing his shoulders and trying to pull him away.

“It’s my sister!” Jason fights. It’s harder to control him than Veronica. “Let me go! It’s my—”

“I’m sorry! We can’t move her!” Archie’s grip is strong. Jason collapses, and the way he starts to sob tugs at Archie’s heartstrings. He wants to tell Jason that she’ll be okay, but he can’t imagine, can’t fathom, how it must feel, to see the alternate version of yourself wounded and bleeding like that. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice muffled as he hugs Jason.

Jason cries in Archie’s arms until Veronica’s mantra is replaced by the distant sound of sirens.

 

 

 

 

Veronica watches as the clock on the wall ticks, weirdly paired up with the steady beating of her heart. The hands say it’s twenty-six past midnight.

It feels like forever since the rescuers came together like a symphony, taking Cheryl out of the wreckage and taking her away in an ambulance, bandaging up Archie’s arm, asking them questions they didn’t have any answers to. But maybe it _has_ been forever, who knows? It’s not like time is still linear.

There’s a bunch of other people in the waiting room, and the droning television paints their tired, expectant faces blue. Veronica hates them. She hates them, because of what their exhaustion means: _this time, you have to let it go. This time, there’s absolutely nothing you can do._

Jason is somewhere with the police, answering questions about their guardians. They need a Blossom family member in order to get any information about Cheryl's wellbeing. Archie went outside for a minute, hoping to call Jeff and explain why he’d probably miss curfew. And she’s there, with her hands on her lap and an ache in her throat that she can’t seem to get around. Powerless. Incapable. _Weak_.

Scared. So, so fucking scared.

 _Abuelita_ would tell her to ask the Lady of Guadalupe to envelop Cheryl in Her sacred cloak. Hermione would agree. She’d say Veronica should be at the chapel now, praying for Cheryl’s life.

Her best friend’s stomach is being ripped apart to remove _glass_. Her best friend is _bleeding_. Her best friend’s mind could be completely fucked up from the collision. And yet, Veronica _can’t_. She can’t pray. She can’t _ask_ — it would feel like giving up.

A sudden urge makes her reach for her phone in her purse and open the messaging app. Veronica scrolls down until she finds her chat with Cheryl and gasps quietly when she looks at the last thing Cheryl told her, a text that remained unanswered.

**_i’m sorry. i love you._ **

**_i love you too._** Veronica types with trembling fingers, feeling tears prickling in her eyes. **_so much. come back._**

She presses send.

 

 

 

 

There’s blood splattered on Archie’s shirt. His long sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing the bandage wrapped around his forearm. Veronica’s throat hurts even more when she sees him walking towards her — he’s tired and hurt, but he still manages to smile a little when their eyes meet.

“I hope Jeff covers for me,” he says, sitting on the chair next to Veronica. She already put her phone away, after sending Betty a text to tell her about the situation. “Did Jason show up?”

She shakes her head, shifting a bit on her seat. “Not yet.”

There’s a moment of silence. Archie stares at his shoes. There’s dirt on his jeans, from where he kneeled on the road. Veronica watches his side profile, the way his red hair falls into his eyes. She was a little angry with him while they were riding to the hospital — angry because he didn’t let her go to Cheryl. Because he put himself in danger just to get her out of it. Because he was the one with the steady arms around Jason. Because he was so brave and so stupid.

And so _good_.

Archie’s eyes travel to the television, and he snorts. “Infomercials? _Really_?”

Veronica feels her lips curling upwards, even if it’s just a ghost of a smile. She feels the tears she dried so quickly coming back — she makes no sound, but Archie seems to sense it. He turns to her, and the way his eyes sadden just makes everything worse — it’s like he’s been wounded by the look on her face.

“Oh, Ronnie,” he mutters, turning around completely, reaching out a hand to cup her face. “She’s going to be okay.”

The warmth of his hand on her face doesn’t help with her resolution of holding it together. She lifts a hand to lightly hold his wrist, feeling the bandage under her fingertips. “Does it hurt?” she asks, closing her eyes for a brief moment. A tear slides down her cheek, but Archie’s thumb is there to dry it.  
  
“It doesn’t,” Archie says, coming closer to her face. “You heard me, right? She’s going to be okay.” His voice is firm and reassuring, and Veronica would believe him if she wasn’t so used to expecting the worst. She looks up, eyes meeting his. He looks like he’s waiting for some kind of answer, like he won’t give up until she agrees with him.  
  
She ends up nodding. It’s not like she has the option to be completely hopeless.

“Come here,” he whispers. And then he moves, starting to curl his arm around her, but he’s only half holding her when she realizes this is a bad idea. Veronica shakes her head vehemently, not allowing him to bring her any closer. She can’t let herself go. Not _now_ , not yet.

“I’m— if you hold me, I’m gonna lose it.” Veronica pulls away from him, drying some more tears that were about to fall from her lashes. His heartfelt brown eyes make her wonder _why_ she is like this, but the truth is, she doesn’t know how to be comforted. She doesn’t _want_ to be comforted. “I can’t. Jason is going to come back, and he needs me. I—”

Her hands are back on her lap, back to shaking. Archie reaches out to touch them. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“You should go home, Archie,” Veronica whispers, studying his face, noticing how tired he looks. He frowns, and she gathers his hand between hers. “God only knows when this will all be over, and you’re hurt. You should go rest.”

Archie looks into her eyes for a moment. She’s a little afraid that he’ll be upset, or that he’ll think she’s trying to push him away, but then his whole face softens. He’s left with a tender smile on his lips. He chuckles, then. “You're crazy.” Archie leans in, pressing a long kiss to her forehead. Veronica closes her eyes. “I’m not leaving until you leave, Ronnie,” he says against her skin. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here.”

Veronica takes in a deep breath. He pulls away to look at her face, and she gives his hand a squeeze. Somehow, she ends up smiling too.

Archie’s eyes change their focus, then. He nods at somewhere behind her, and Veronica turns around. Jason is walking into the room, wearing some sort of defeated exhaustion, his hands in his pockets. Both Archie and Veronica immediately get to their feet, striding forward to meet him halfway.

“Hey, JJ,” Veronica says, as softly as she can. Jason glances up at her, his face stricken and pale. “What did they want? Did they call your parents?”

Jason nods. “Yeah. They’re still in Europe. I don’t know what they talked about.” His voice is weak, even a little raspy. She remembers how much he screamed, irrepressibly, as the paramedics didn’t let him in the ambulance with Cheryl, so they’d have more space to work. “I’m her fucking _twin brother,_ but the doctors won't tell me shit since I’m underage. We’ll only know what’s going on once my grandmother arrives.”

“Oh.” Veronica’s eyes meet Jason’s, and they seem to communicate in silence. It’s been a while since she’s seen Nana Rose — but from what Veronica remembers, she was saner than Clifford and Penelope combined. “Okay. Okay, that’s good. How long do you think she’ll take?”

Jason shrugs, obviously worried and frustrated. Veronica wishes she had it in her to give him a hug — but the last thing Jason needs right now is a sob-fest. She opens her mouth, trying to find something else to say, but Archie’s hand finds Jason’s shoulder first.

“I guess I should get us all some coffee, then,” he says, squeezing Jason’s shoulder. They look a lot like brothers, at the moment. “Something to warm us up. What do you say?”

“Yeah,” Jason mumbles. Archie pats his arm and glances meaningfully at Veronica, before walking towards the elevator.

She watches worriedly as her friend sits in a chair. He’s shaking, just like she was a couple of minutes ago, before Archie took her hand. Chewing on her lower lip, Veronica takes in a deep breath, and sits beside him.

“What does your supernatural twin connection say?” Veronica asks quietly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Jason rests his head against hers. “It says that she would love to know we’re here, thinking about no one else but her.”

Veronica smiles. He’s right: Cheryl would love to know how worried they are, how much they love her, and how they absolutely _can’t_ live without her. Memories of their childhood, the three of them running around dinner galas and secretly laughing after getting scolded by their parents, flood her mind. Veronica holds on to those memories, to Cheryl’s red curls bouncing around, a tooth missing in her big, easy smile. It used to be so easy, to make her smile.

“She’s going to be okay, JJ,” she murmurs, finding herself repeating Archie’s words. Veronica wishes she could hate Archie for making her believe a little, but the truth is, she’s never been so grateful for someone’s existence before.

 

 

 

 

About one hour later, when Jason and Cheryl’s grandmother arrives, she is _not_ what Archie was expecting — not that he was expecting anything, but she still surprises him.

Nana Rose — that’s what Jason called her — is in a wheelchair, being pushed by another woman that Archie thinks is a caregiver. She has one red streak in her otherwise perfectly curled white hair, and she seems to be blind in one eye. Archie remembers the story Veronica told him when they were at Thornhill together for the first time — that Cheryl’s grandmother acquired their Van Gogh picture from Al Capone. He smiles to himself, thinking about how this woman is definitely a badass.

“JJ, dear.” The caregiver pushes her to them. Nana Rose takes Jason’s hands. He leans down to kiss them, and she runs her lean fingers through his red hair. “Oh, my poor boy. Let’s get some answers.”

Archie glances over at Veronica, who’s watching the family interaction, her mascara slightly smudged under her eyes. Archie reaches out a hand and places it on her leg, squeezing just above her knee. She looks up at him, her lips ghosting around a smile.

Jason gets up, and takes his place behind Nana Rose’s wheelchair, thanking the caregiver, and telling her to get herself some coffee or something. He looks briefly at Archie and Veronica, and then pushes the wheelchair towards the main desk. Veronica puts her hand on top of his, and the small physical contact reassures Archie — everything is going to be fine.

A doctor carrying a file approaches the Blossoms after a few minutes of waiting, and Veronica rises onto her feet almost immediately. Archie follows her. His hands feel empty, not linked with hers, so he shoves them into his hoodie’s pockets.

They listen intently as the doctor tells them the current scenario. Cheryl’s in surgery, will be for the next six hours, will take at least four more after that to be awake. The wound in her abdomen is their main concern right now — the glass went deep into her skin, puncturing her liver. They still don’t know how bad the damage is. They can’t say she’s _not_ in danger, but they can say they're optimistic. The MRI showed only a concussion, which should heal itself, but they will know the real condition of her brain once she’s awake.

Jason pushes Nana Rose’s chair, following the doctor, so she can sign some papers. As soon as they’re out of sight, Veronica inhales and exhales so deeply, that Archie wonders if she’s been holding her breath this whole time.

He watches her curiously, wondering if he should try again to hug her — they’ve got good news, _concrete_ news. Imagining Cheryl on a hospital bed with her stomach cut open _is_ terrifying, but it’s certainly better than his last memory of her, when she was upside down, bleeding, and helpless.

 _That’s_ something he never wants to think about again.

 

 

 

 

The wait is definitely the hardest part.

They spend long, everlasting hours waiting, dozing on and off between crappy cups of coffee and the unbearable sterile smell in the air. Archie checks his phone every once in a while, mentally preparing herself to get yelled at by his mom when Jeff’s cover inevitably blows. But minutes come and go, soon hours, and nothing really happens — his phone doesn’t ring, and the doctors don’t have any more tangible answers.

He’s half-asleep with his head on Veronica’s shoulder, the noises of the hospital buzzing in the background of his slumber, when she moves, suddenly, and ends up startling him.

“V!” Archie hears Betty’s voice, and it almost wakes him up completely. The clock on the wall now says it’s almost a quarter past six. Betty is there indeed, her hair down and her eyes wide, and Veronica is walking towards her.

Jason stands up too, because his girlfriend Polly is right behind her sister, by Jughead’s side. Polly’s eyes fill with tears once she sees Jason. “ _Oh_ , my love,” Archie hears her say, before she takes Jason in her arms and holds him tightly. Jason seems to breathe her in deeply.

Archie approaches his friends, nodding at Jughead in recognition. He nods back, his usual beanie a little crooked on his head. “We came as fast as we could,” Betty says in a breathy voice, glancing at Archie quickly, her hands resting on Veronica’s forearms. “I was already asleep when you texted me. We only heard it once JJ called Polly.”

“We’ve been here all night long,” Veronica murmurs. She’s shaking again — he notices it because of the way her heels are wobbling. And then, her voice rises. “This goddamn hospital. First, they said a guardian should be here. Nana Rose _is_ here, and they tell us _nothing_. My dad built half of this fucking city, and yet—”

Jughead huffs out a laugh. “This is not the time to name-drop, Veronica,” he says, giving her a pointed look, and even if it’s a stupid joke, it seems to stop Veronica from blurting out things that she might regret later.

“Who asked you to come, again?” Veronica glares at Jughead, tired but icy. Archie chuckles when he realizes that Betty is rolling her eyes.

“C’mon, guys,” she says, placing one arm around Veronica, steering her towards the chairs. “Let’s be civil.”

 

 

 

 

The arrival of the Cooper sisters is like a gust of fresh air in the waiting room.

Polly soon manages to take Jason and Nana Rose to the cafeteria for a bit, to get them something to eat. Betty’s presence is definitely soothing — she’s got her jaw set, the very same expression she always wears while trying to solve some problem at school, the one that makes you believe that there’s a solution to everything.

Betty takes Archie’s chair next to Veronica, and she also takes Veronica’s hand. They’re talking in low voices, mostly Veronica telling Betty a detailed story of how it all happened. Archie is sitting across from them, next to Jughead, who’s paying attention even if their conversation doesn’t involve him.

“I think Archie was the only one thinking straight,” Veronica says, swallowing hard. “He checked if she was still breathing, even cut his arm doing so.” She glances at him. Betty’s expression is suddenly very soft, as she turns to face him, looking at his bandaged arm.

He shakes his head. “I only did what I had to do.”

“Don’t be humble, man,” Jughead says, giving him a pat on his back. “This is some serious superhero shit.”

Archie smiles a little, somehow thankful for the small praise. “I just checked if she was breathing and was careless enough to cut myself,” he tries again.

“I’m so glad you were with them, Arch,” Betty says, a quiet tear dropping from the corner of her eye. “Acting quickly is probably the reason why Cheryl will be okay. Because she _will_ be okay, you hear me?” She turns to Veronica, and her voice changes — it's firmer, and more decisive.

Veronica doesn’t nod — she just squeezes her eyes shut and rests her head on Betty’s shoulder.

A moment later, Polly comes back with the Blossoms. They bring cups of hot chocolate for everyone — Polly says they all could use the endorphins. Archie warms his hands around his cup before drinking it. It’s too sweet, but it’s also surprisingly good after an entire night full of coffee and anticipation.

The minutes are filled with Polly and Betty’s gentle voices as they speak. Veronica still has her head on Betty’s shoulder, eyes closed, and the blonde girl has an arm around her, not quite hugging her, but stroking her raven hair gently. Maybe Veronica wants everyone to think she’s sleeping, but Archie can see an unfading crease between her eyebrows — he knows that she’s just avoiding reassurance.

The girls (and Jughead) are telling him and Jason about their drive back from Pentwater, and how nice their holiday had been — even if cut short. It makes Archie’s mind wander to _his_ Thanksgiving. How amazing it was to have his dad around; to finally be able to kiss Veronica, again and again.

He catches himself thinking about the fragility of things. Lyrics about the world that keeps spinning start to form inside his tired mind, and his eyelids are heavy again, when suddenly Jason gets up, and everyone, including Veronica, follows his lead. Another doctor approaches them, clean and visibly tired, reading glasses on his face.

“Mrs. Blossom? I’m Dr. Sheen, head surgeon of your granddaughter’s operation. I’m sorry to keep you waiting for so long,” he says, focusing on Nana Rose. Archie feels his breath stuck in his throat, his palms a bit sweaty. “Cheryl lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stabilize her. The glass was removed, and the liver damage was thankfully minimal. She’s out of surgery now. She’ll be awake in a few hours. Then we’ll run some tests, but the prognosis is good. We are positive that she will recover.” He goes on, “The nurses will let you know when you’ll be able to visit her.”

Archie hides his face with his hand, a wave of relief washing over him, so big that it’s overwhelming. It softens all his muscles, and he feels that his bones might as well be made of rubber. He says _thank you_ in his mind, a hundred times, maybe a thousand times more.

He presses his eyes with the heels of his hands. His moment of reprieve is broken when he hears a sob. Opening his eyes, he turns and realizes that it came from Veronica.

Betty is quick, wrapping her arms around her. Veronica holds her friend tightly, finally letting herself be overtaken by her emotions. Betty slides her hand up and down her back, muttering calming words, and Veronica cries. She cries so hard, that Archie’s eyes can no longer remain dry.

 

 

 

 

Promising that she will stay at the hospital until Cheryl is awake, Betty demands that Veronica goes home to rest. She wants to be stubborn. She wants to say that she’s not going anywhere, but there’s too little fight left in her. She’s exhausted and drained, and when Jughead says they’ll text her if anything changes (for better or for worse), she simply agrees. There’s nothing else she can say.

Archie, of course, offers to take her home.

After hugs, goodbyes, and more promises of immediate contact, Veronica and Archie _finally_ leave that God forsaken hospital, falling into step towards the truck. She glances over at him, like she’s done throughout the night, and thinks back to when they were walking together earlier, last evening, mouths tasting like chocolate and like each other.

Archie, sweet, precious Archie, who has fulfilled his promised and not left her side for one minute. Archie, who she knew spent the whole night waiting for the moment she’d let him hold her and offer the tenderness of his arms to make her feel better.

“Archiekins?” she calls, and he looks at her, eyebrows lifted up. “We should drive to your place. It’s another thirty minutes to mine. I won’t let you drive all the way there. This night has been long enough. I’ll call Andre, and he’ll pick me up at your place.”

Looking as spent as she feels, Archie doesn’t argue. The sky is milky-white, filled with clouds, but the day is already bright as they drive back to Chicago.

 

 

 

 

“Mom? Jeff?” Archie calls, as soon as he opens the loft’s door. Veronica follows him inside. There’s no one in the kitchen/living-room space. He throws his keys onto the table. “Mom?”

No one answers. Archie enters further into the apartment, checking the rooms. Veronica sits on the living room couch — the cushions are welcoming after a long day of uncomfortable chairs. She takes off her boots, barely able to stand in them anymore. When Archie comes back, he has his phone in his hand.

“They’re out. I’m going to text Jeffrey to let him now I’m back.” He sighs and starts typing said message. “Hopefully they’re not out there looking for me.”

Veronica smiles a little, remembering what he said a few minutes before, while they were still in the elevator: _I’m probably going to be grounded until I’m twenty-one_. “I guess I can escape before your mom grounds me too,” she says, massaging her sore feet.

Archie laughs briefly. He places his phone on the table next to his keys and looks at her. Both of their smiles fade. “Maybe, uh, we should eat something?” he half-asks, moving towards the fridge. Veronica is not hungry at all, but she knows he’s right. “Yogurt? Maybe some fruit? There’s a mango.” He turns to her, adorable as usual, happy about simple things like a mango in the fridge.

“A mango sounds good,” she says, checking her phone. There’s nothing new from Betty yet. Veronica sends her mother a text — **_i didn’t sleep at home. cheryl had an accident, so i was at the hospital. i'm okay._** — and wonders, as she presses send, if her parents even care anymore.

 _Oh, well._ It doesn’t really matter.

They sit at the table and eat their mangos, which Archie has cut into cubes. The silence surrounding them is appreciated, considering all of the ongoing hospital noise they had to withstand throughout the whole night. Jeff texts back at some point, saying that he and his mom are out buying groceries and that everything is okay — meaning that he _has_ , indeed, covered for Archie. Foolishly, Veronica feels an impulse to check her phone again and see if her mother has answered, but, as expected, Hermione has only read her message — she said nothing.

It makes her feel _gross_ , suddenly, like there’s something horrible crawling on her skin, and the sweetness of the fruit turns sour inside her mouth. Veronica coaches herself into taking a deep breath, so she doesn’t throw up. She knows she’s probably overstaying her welcome at Archie’s house, but she just— she just _doesn’t_ want to go back to The Pembrooke just yet and face that enormous emptiness.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?” Veronica asks. Archie, who had been idly checking his social media with heavy, tired eyelids, looks up at her. “I feel disgusting. I promise I’ll call Andre afterwards.”

Archie’s brown eyes widen. It seems to wake him up. “Wh— _Ronnie_. Of course, you can take a shower. You don’t even need to leave. Don’t…” he stops when he looks at her face. She’s pretty sure her eyes are damp again. And Archie understands the silent request in her eyes, because just like back at the hospital, his whole expression softens. “I’ll get you a towel. And a clean T-shirt? You can use my mom’s bathroom. She has ten different types of shower _things_.”

 

 

 

 

Archie shows Veronica the bathroom connected to his mom and Jeff’s bedroom. His cheeks heat up a little as he tells her how to use the hot water in order to not get scalded — he’s pretty sure that this is the simplest place she’s ever taken a shower in her life, but Veronica just thanks him, holding some sort of toiletry bag against her chest. It has always baffled Archie how prepared girls seem to be, all the time. 

She closes the bathroom door when he leaves. Archie decides to close the bedroom door as well, to give her more privacy when she’s out.

Archie thinks he probably should take a shower as well — he’s been wearing these clothes for almost twenty-four hours now. His shirt is ragged and stained with blood, and he’s pretty sure he stinks. He proceeds to do so — and it turns out to be a good idea, because scrubbing his skin under the hot water is invigorating and incredibly relaxing.

The water in his mom’s bathroom is still running when he gets out of the shower. He changes into grey sweatpants and an old white T-shirt he normally uses to sleep, dries his hair with the towel until it’s only somewhat damp, and goes back to the kitchen to start doing the dishes in the sink, hoping to get some points with his mom when she gets back to most likely yell at him for getting hurt _again_.

He’s humming some song that comes back to his mind, one that he only partially knows the lyrics to — _amongst the vending machines, and year-old magazines, in a place where we only say goodbye_ — and finishing washing his mom’s _World’s Best Wife_ mug, when he hears a soft _hey_ behind him. Turning around, he sees Veronica standing by the table, wearing the same black jeans from before and his worn-out grey T-shirt, which is twice her size. The lack of makeup gives away how tired she really is.

“Hey.” He offers her a smile over his shoulder, and turns back to the sink. “I’m just finishing these up and—” Archie stops talking, because he feels the warmth of Veronica’s body behind him. She’s hiding her face in the middle of his back, and her arms wrap around his torso, hands over his stomach.

“Thank you,” she says, her words muffled by his T-shirt. Archie, who was slightly startled by the sudden proximity, relaxes then, exhaling slowly. He turns off the faucet and dries his hands on the dishcloth next to him.

Archie turns around inside her embrace, his hips against the kitchen sink. She pulls away a little, her hands now crossed at his lower back. Looking down at her, Archie puts her raven hair behind her ear. “What for?” he asks, gently, and puts his arms around her too. It’s everything he wanted to do throughout the night — just _hold_ her.

“For helping Cheryl,” she says, big, brown eyes shining. Archie feels his heart beat a little faster, especially when she reaches out a hand and touches his face, fingertips on his left cheek. “For staying with me.”

He shakes his head. She shouldn’t be thanking him for that. They _all_ needed to stop thinking that he did something amazing — he isn't a superhero like Jughead said, or worthy of gratitude just because he helped another human being. It almost breaks his heart to know that Ronnie thought he’d go home and leave her alone — he _wouldn’t_. Even if he didn’t care about Cheryl, he would’ve done the same. And he would’ve stayed, even if he wasn’t—

Even if he wasn’t hopelessly falling for the girl in his arms.

“And I’ll keep staying,” Archie promises, dropping his voice. They’re alone, but he still feels like this moment should be some sort of secret, something that only the two of them know. Her fingertips trace the lines on his face. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Veronica gives him his favorite smile — the little one — and tiptoes on her bare feet until she can touch his lips with hers, the hand that was on his face now on his shoulder, bracing herself. Archie takes in a deep breath, leaning down to meet her halfway, closing his eyes as he captures her lower lip between his.

They pull apart after a moment, her feet getting back to the ground. He searches her eyes, and they’re no longer full of softness and care. There’s something else — a different kind of brightness. Archie doesn’t have much time to guess what it means, because she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, kissing him again.

Archie kisses her back, opening his mouth against hers, one of his hands around her waist and the other in her hair, cradling her head. He’s leaning down because she’s so much smaller than him without heels, and because he wants to bring her even closer to his body — he ends up walking her back a little, until she’s against the dining room table. Archie feels feverish with the way she moves her tongue against his.

Suddenly, Veronica pulls apart, but he quickly realizes it’s only so she can steel herself by placing one hand on the table behind them. Archie doesn’t think too much, just missing her mouth on his, and with his hands behind her thighs, he picks her up. She lets out a small, breathy gasp and wraps her legs around his hips when he places her on the table.

Their mouths come together again. Veronica’s hands are in his hair, pulling it slightly, and Archie maintains his grip on her thighs, just enjoying the feel of their bodies aligned. He can feel her chest and stomach against his, the grip of her legs around him, and it’s overwhelmingly good. His blood is running fast and _down_ his body.

 _“Archie,”_ Veronica breathes. She’s tugging at the hem of the T-shirt he’s wearing. He stops kissing her for a second and looks into her eyes again, frowning a little at the implication. She asks for silent consent with the way she stares at him and pulls the T-shirt up. Archie lifts his arms to help her take it off, tossing it somewhere in the kitchen. Veronica’s hands are warm as she touches his collarbone, shoulders, and chest, feeling muscles and leaving a fiery trace behind, her eyes following her hands.

Archie is breathing hard. Veronica flicks her thumb over his nipple, and his skin covers with goosebumps. She comes closer to him again, swiping her tongue over his neck, her hands going lower, down to his abdomen. He trembles furiously at her touch.

She scrapes her teeth on his collarbone, and Archie’s fingertips sink into her thighs. “Ronnie,” he whispers. The pressure of her legs around his hips increases and his sweatpants do nothing to hide what’s going on with his body. Archie takes the back of her head in his hand, her soft hair escaping between his fingers, and steers her towards his mouth again. “We need to leave the kitchen,” he says, breaking the kiss, almost smiling against her lips.

Veronica clings onto him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist, and Archie takes it as a sign that he should carry her somewhere else, so he does, one of his hands moving to her ass. She doesn’t stop kissing him as he moves them, _this_ , to his bedroom, closing the door with his feet once he’s there.

Archie lays her down on his bed, and the mattress sinks under their combined weight. Archie slides his hand up, from her hip to her stomach, lifting up her shirt so he can touch her beneath the fabric. Her skin is so warm. Her fingertips are on his back now. Archie barely has time to delve into the sensation when he feels that she’s pushing his body to the side, shifting their positions, straddling him.

Her weight and the friction of her jeans on the top of the bulge in his pants make Archie groan. Veronica sits on top of him, and Archie looks up to _watch her_ — her hair messily falling on her shoulders. Her bare face and swollen lips. Her, pulling up his grey T-shirt with no warning, taking it off her body.

“Holy sh— _Ronnie_.” Archie hears himself say as he lets his eyes fall on her body. Her breasts curve perfectly inside her black bra. Her skin is like gold. Archie swallows hard, reaching out a hand and placing it on her waist. “You’re so beautiful.”

She smiles, biting her bottom lip. “Come here,” she says. Archie sits up, pulling her close. She kisses him with an open mouth. One of his hands stays at her waist, and the other climbs up her back. “Take it off,” she whispers beneath their erratic breaths when Archie feels his fingers around the clasps of her bra.

“Ronnie,” Archie mutters. His other hand goes to her back instinctively, but he stops himself. And it’s not that he doesn’t _want to_ — _God_ , he wants to so fucking much — but only if _she_ really wants it too. Only if she’s feeling the same fire coursing through her veins, only if she wants him to make her feel good. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she answers in Archie’s ear, no hesitation whatsoever, and comes back to kiss his neck. His fingers fumble on her back, and his hands must be a little shaky, because it takes him a moment to _manage_ unclasping her bra. It loosens around her chest, and she pulls away to let it slide down her arms, watching the look on his face.

He doesn’t mean to _stare_ at her naked breasts, but he ends up doing it. He remembers that moment in her house, so many months ago — and all the times after that when he’d find some sort of private release, thinking about how it was to touch her in the darkness of her room. Veronica takes his hand, that's back at her waist, and guides it upwards on her body, cupping her right breast.

Archie brushes his lips with hers, and then moves them to her jaw until he’s kissing the column of her neck. He places both hands on her breasts, his thumbs running over her hard nipples. It makes her gasp and arch against him.

His mouth goes down her collarbone and then to her chest. He brings one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking gently, closing his eyes at the feeling. She moans, a little louder, grabbing his shoulders. Her fingernails sting a little, but he doesn’t mind. Veronica rolls her hips against his, and it sends a shiver up his spine.

Her hands are suddenly between their bodies, and she’s reaching for the button and zipper on her jeans. She pulls away from him, and their eyes meet — somehow, Archie is able to read them, and changes their position again until she’s laying with her back on the bed. Veronica lifts her hips, so she can slide her jeans down her legs. Archie helps her, standing up to take her jeans off, unable to take his eyes off her, almost completely naked, save for the black panties she’s wearing.

Archie wants to say _Ronnie_ again, because there’s basically nothing else to say when the girl he’s been dreaming about is naked in broad daylight, willing to share her perfect body with him somehow. But he swallows hard, and takes off his own pants too, not sure if he’s embarrassed about how aroused he is.

Veronica’s eyes go down on his body, and it’s almost as if she’s touching it. Archie isn’t really sure what to do — he _has_ experience, but it feels like he doesn’t, at all. He wants her so badly — he’s afraid he’ll ruin it somehow. If she doesn’t like the things he knows how to do, if he doesn’t last too long, or if—

Almost as if she knew how many thoughts were invading his mind, Veronica hooks her thumbs on the sides of her underwear and slides it down her hips and legs. Archie’s brain is completely blank again as he drinks in the delicate, most secret lines of her body.

“Kiss me,” she demands. Archie joins her on the bed again, laying next to her. He kisses her deeply, cupping her breast again, dazed with how much skin is now against hers. She slides her tongue against his, turning on her side, one of her legs hooking around his thigh to bring him closer.

Archie feels the warm wetness against his skin when she parts her legs. Veronica gets his hand again, and guides it from her breast down her stomach, and then _lower_. Archie moves his fingers delicately, his thumb moving on her clit in circular motions, and her breathing changes its rhythm.

“ _Yes,_ ” she says, breaking the kiss. Archie’s eyes flick from the movement of his hand to her face, and she’s flushed, biting her lip.

“Is this good?” he asks, his middle finger finding her entrance. She answers by throwing her head back and moaning once he slides his finger into her. He starts moving it in and out, while his thumb is still working on her clit. Archie presses himself against her thigh, hoping for some friction to calm the heat in his body.

He wants to do _more_ — he’s not sure what, or how — but Veronica seems to be enjoying whatever he’s doing, because she’s clenching around his finger. Her breath is more and more inconsistent as each second passes. Archie quickens his pace, and moves his lips to her neck, sucking it, feeling the taste of her skin on his tongue. He slows down again, slowly adding another finger inside her, and Veronica’s mouth falls open.

Somehow, it doesn’t take very long for her body to start quivering. Her chest heaves with frantic breaths and she’s moaning and moaning. She moans _his_ name, and Archie thinks he’s never seen something more beautiful in his life as she loses herself in pleasure. He slowly removes his fingers, resting his hand on her waist, _impossibly_ hard against her.

“My bag,” she mutters suddenly. “In the living room. I have a condom.”

“Oh,” Archie takes a second to understand her. He breathes faster, trying not to overwhelm himself with expectation. “I’ll be right back,” he says, kissing her quickly and running to the living room to find her bag. He fumbles around it and finds the condom inside the toiletry bag he had noticed before.

Her chest is still flustered with pleasure when he comes back to the room. He closes the door behind him again and comes closer to her. He plants a kiss on her stomach and swipes his tongue up to the center of her breasts and kisses her mouth again. Veronica is still coming down, but she receives his mouth with hers and starts taking off his underwear.

Archie groans when his erection is freed from the pressure, but then it’s trapped again, around her fingers. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes when he feels Veronica pump her hand along his length. She kisses him again, nibbling on his lower lip, and Archie feels like he could lose himself at any minute. “Babe, please, I’m not gonna last too long,” he confesses, wondering if he should feel self-conscious.

But she just stops, hearing his plea, and gets the condom from his hand. Archie lays on his back as he watches her rip the foil package open, and hisses when she rolls the condom on him, adding just the right amount of pressure. Veronica gets on top of him, sitting on his thighs, and gives him a couple more pumps. There’s nothing _else_ in the world that Archie wants to do right now but watch her sink onto him, but he can’t help but allow his hand to search for her face, bringing her attention to his face. “Are you sure?” he asks again.

“Yes,” she repeats, looking into his eyes now. There’s not even a shade of doubt in her eyes, and Archie runs his thumb on her lower lip. She opens her mouth to catch it, and lifts her knees so she can position herself, sinking onto him.

Archie closes his eyes, a moan coming out of the bottom of his throat, but soon opens them, not wanting to miss a thing. Veronica sucks on his thumb as she starts moving, and Archie enjoys the pressure and the warmth before he starts to lift his hips, thrusting into her.

Their rhythm picks up, and Archie realizes he can’t stay away from her much longer. Seeking the feeling of her skin against his, he sits up, their naked chests meeting. Veronica gasps with each thrust, her hands all over his torso, and he’s torn between kissing her and watching the look on her face as they lose themselves in the sensations.

“Archie,” she whispers in his ear, “oh, my G—”

The raspiness of her voice encourages him. It’s the first time he has had sex on a bed, and even though he really _is not_ going to last much more than a few minutes (he’s been wanting this, _her_ , all of her, for such a long time now), he changes their position, laying her down beneath him. Veronica clutches his back with her nails, and Archie’s eyes almost roll as he pushes deeper into her.

“I want you.” She bites his earlobe, breathing hot air on his neck, feeling _so good_ as she clenches around him. “I want you so fucking much.”

“ _Holy fuck,_ ” Archie cries, feeling everything exploding all over his body. “ _Ronnie._ Oh, my God, I’m—”

Archie comes, harder than ever before, collapsing on top of her, trying not to crush her with his weight. He’s pulsing inside her, and she still feels so good — he’s not taken by any of the feelings of loneliness that normally washed over him after spending _this kind_ of time with the only other person he had sex with before. Veronica is a little shaky, breathless, and Archie thinks that she might have come again — he was just too distracted in his own pleasure to notice.

She cards her fingers through his still damp hair. Archie peppers kisses on her collarbone, and on her neck. He wishes he had the energy to do more of this, but after pulling that all-nighter at the hospital, his body is practically disintegrating in tiredness. Begrudgingly accepting his defeat, Archie slides out of her.

Archie knows he needs to get up, get rid of the condom, probably clean himself. He also knows that maybe his parents arrived while _this_ was happening, and if that’s the case, he has a _lot_ of explaining to do. But he just wants to stay with her a little longer, so he places one hand on top of her stomach, and watches her beautiful, beautiful face as she looks back at him. He could get used to this. He could savor this for the rest of his life.

“How do you feel?” he asks, as softly as he can. Veronica smiles, biting her lip again, and Archie knows that slowly all the bad feelings — Cheryl still being at the hospital, them still not one-hundred percent sure of how well she’ll recover — will crawl back. But at least for now, he’s making her smile. “Do you think we’ve gone too fast?”

He laughs at his own question, and she follows him. Of course, they _have_ gone too fast. But Veronica shakes her head, and places one hand on his cheek, like she did back in the kitchen, her dark eyes so bright. His little Stardust.

“I think we had this date with each other from the very beginning, Archiekins.”

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooof.
> 
> this chapter was really hard to write (no pun intended), but it guess it pays off? i hope it does. i kind of consider this the "season finale" of LM — but it's NOT the last chapter. there's a lot to happen still.
> 
> sooo, is cheryl really okay? what happened to the blossoms? varchie have done it! :O what now?
> 
> thank you so much to my rockstar beta nic, as usual, who's in the long ride with me (lol) and to my friend maria, who always leaves such good reviews and now helped me with writing the accident aftermath. gracias, cariño!
> 
> song at the beginning is the classic "only", by ry x. you all do know this song! oh, and the song archie was singing is "what sarah said", by death cab for cutie.


	27. Chapter 27

_take my hand, and we'll go as one_

 

 

 

 

Veronica wakes up disoriented, but only for a moment, before her brain registers the weight of Archie’s arm around her waist. What happened between them — the fervorous kissing, the feeling of his muscles under her fingertips, relishing in the warmth of his skin — comes rushing back.  
  
She remembers the way he looked at her like nobody else had before, right after she kissed him in the kitchen. Like he was the answer to a question she’d been asking herself for a long, long time. She remembers kissing him again, painfully aware that she never wanted anything so much in her life.

Veronica turns around inside his embrace, opening her eyes to the white sunshine, and Archie unconsciously pulls her closer, his chin against her forehead. Veronica looks up at him to see if somehow, she has woken him up, but he’s still dead asleep and breathing heavily. She bites her sensitive lower lip, holding back a smile.

Archie hasn’t let her go for a minute, it seems. Back when she used to sleep with Reggie, they would cuddle right after sex, but once they had fallen asleep, they would always end up away from each other. So, she’s not exactly used to being like this, but it’s not really overwhelming or uncomfortable. In the middle of all the mess, _everything_ about what happened between them feels right.

Veronica closes her eyes again, her face against his chest and the top of her head under his chin. She tries to synchronize her breathing with his and sleep again, but slowly, reality starts to creep into her brain. She needs to check her phone to see if Betty has sent any news about Cheryl. She needs to go home and get some clothes before going back to the hospital. She needs to go back to the goddamn hospital. She needs to be there when Cheryl wakes up.

There’s a tiny voice in her saying: _if_ Cheryl wakes up. Veronica tries to ignore it, to let it go. The doctors said she would, and she owes it to Archie, who stayed up with her all night long, to believe that things will be okay.

Taking a deep breath, Veronica slides out of his hold, trying her best not to disturb him. Archie shifts in his sleep, his back against the mattress, the wrinkled duvet covering him waist down.

She lands on her feet and gets dressed, quietly, putting back the grey t-shirt he lent her earlier on. Her shoes and purse are definitely in the living room, and her phone is probably still in the kitchen.  
  
She looks over at Archie. There’s a red mark on his collarbone, probably the product of her teeth. Veronica smiles. She doesn’t want to leave him without saying goodbye after their first time like she’s some scoundrel, but he deserves to rest. She wouldn’t dare wake him up from such a peaceful slumber — besides, it’s probably a miracle that Archie’s parents still aren’t back from their errands, so she should probably go.

Kneeling at the edge of the bed, Veronica kisses his cheek for a moment, the tip of her nose brushing against his skin.

“See you later,” she whispers, brushing away the hair on his forehead. Her stomach flips when she looks at him again. It’s like she’s on a rollercoaster: she feels excited, and even kind of scared, but she knows, somehow, that the best of _them_ is yet to come.

 

 

 

 

As the Lyft drives north, towards the Pembrooke, Veronica’s head feels heavy. In the last forty-eight hours, she has experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Her mind ventures through the hours that spanned last night. The fear. The pain. The tiredness. The desire. Everything is still mixed up inside of her. 

She had Archie by her side the whole time, but now, she doesn't. The effect he has on her, that bright bubble of calmness and optimism, fades away, little by little, as the wheels turn.

Veronica reaches for her phone. Betty hasn’t given any news, nor seen the text she sent her about ten minutes ago. Jughead didn’t say anything either. She knows that this means Cheryl is still asleep — _well,_ it’s been only three hours altogether since they left the hospital — but she also hates it, the not knowing. The _silence._

Her mother didn’t say anything, either. It’s probably for the best. Veronica feels stupid for even texting her, stupid and _weak_ — even though there’s a tiny, tiny part of her that wants to scream. Bringing Jughead to the dinner gala wasn’t _so serious_ that her parents couldn’t even _worry_ about her, their only child.

 _How the fuck can you say nothing?_ that part of her wants to ask, but instead, Veronica swallows the lump in her throat.

The morning doorman — not-Smithers, she never learned his name — is visibly taken aback by her exhausted appearance but doesn’t ask anything. At the elevator, she rests her head against the mirror, closing her heavy eyelids. A small smile comes to her lips as she lets herself think of the last time she’d been home, the way that Archie looked at her when she got ready for their _quasi_ -date — like she was something he wanted to keep.

Veronica turns the keys to the penthouse, her chin high, ready to face the emptiness when her heart misses a beat. “Fucking h y—”

“Miss Veronica!” Consuelo _materializes_ in the foyer. The maid looks distressed and _angry_ , both hands placed on her wide hips. She starts talking, _very fast_. “Madre mía, dónde has estado, niña? Me tenías muy preocupada! Estás bien? No estás herida, verdad?”

Veronica blows out something between a breath and a laugh when she realizes that her jumpiness was for nothing. Her brain takes a few seconds to switch from one language to the other, as the maid goes on about how worried she’s been. “Estoy bien, no te preocupes,” she reassures that everything’s alright. Consuelo makes a very skeptical face, but it’s also very earnest.  
  
“Pareces tan cansada,” she says, noticing the exhaustion as she places a warm hand on Veronica’s cheek. The warmth seems to _melt_ something inside of her — her eyes fill in one second, and Consuelo’s brown eyes also brighten at the sight. “Oh, _no_ , no, Miss Veronica,” she says, pulling Veronica into a motherly, tight hug. “Qué hizo el diablo pelirrojo, este?”

Veronica chokes out a wet laugh, hugging Consuelo back. She doesn’t know how to explain to the maid that the _redheaded devil_ kind of _saved_ her, or that he’s more like an angel than anything else. But she does know one thing: she’s so grateful that her home is not empty.

 

 

 

“Honey, can you wake Archie up?”

Archie doesn’t know if it’s his mother’s voice, the clatter in the living room or hearing his name that wakes him up. He stirs, feeling naked under the duvet. And then, the memory hits his fuzzy mind: he _is_ naked under the duvet.

He jolts, suddenly opening his eyes. Fuck. He reaches out to wake up Veronica and tell her to — _I don’t know, hide_ — before Jeff comes in. It takes him a few seconds to realize Veronica isn’t in the bed and isn’t sure what’s really going on when there’s a knock on his door.

“Hey, buddy?” Jeff calls. Archie quickly sits up, covering himself the best he can.

“Y—” His throat is dry, and his voice is hoarse. Archie clears his throat, running a hand over his face, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “Yeah, come in.”

Jeff comes in, first his head and then the rest of his body, looking around, drinking in his surroundings with a slight frown on his face.

“Morning,” Jeff says, closing the door behind him and leaning against his closet. Archie looks down, making sure there’s nothing showing that he is, in fact, naked. He also hides his bandaged arm under the covers — there's no need to worry anyone right now. “How was your night?”

“Kind of crazy,” Archie answers, his eyes still getting used to the daylight. Fortunately, it seems like Veronica was smart enough to bolt before they arrived unless she’s being interrogated by his mom as they speak, but there are no voices coming from the living room. Jeff just stares at him — Archie did call him in the middle of the night to ask him to cover for him with his mom, so he does owe him some sort of explanation. “One of my friends from school had a car accident, and we stayed at the hospital the whole night. I wasn’t involved, but I didn’t want to tell you guys. I didn't want Mom to freak out.”

“I see,” Jeff says. Archie can’t really tell if he believes him — he’s unusually quiet, hands behind his body. “Is your friend okay?”

“Yeah.” Archie swallows, feeling remnants of that wave of relief that almost knocked him out. Cheryl is alive, _breathing_. “The doctor said everything is going to be alright.”

“Good,” Jeff smiles a little, “and how was your morning?”

Archie feels his neck heating up. He can suddenly hear Veronica’s raspy voice in his ear, feel her trembling body under his, her nails on his back. Forcing himself to block all these thoughts while looking at his stepfather, Archie schools his face into the blandest expression he can pull off. “I slept.”

Jeff sighs. Archie frowns, but he doesn't have much time to be confused before something _lands_ on his face, startling him. It’s his t-shirt, the one he just now realizes he left on the kitchen floor.

“Look, buddy,” Jeff starts, pacing around his room. Archie crumples his t-shirt in his hand as he realizes Jeff is _picking up_ the clothes that were all around the floor. His sweatpants. His boxers. He throws it all on his bed. “I’m not against you having your girlfriends over, and I know that you’re being safe.” He picks up the condom wrapper that probably fell to the floor at some point, shaking the foil package at him. Archie’s cheeks heat up so much that he thinks he’s going to combust. “But your mom might not be all that thrilled, so… Maybe you should make it kind of official? That way neither of us has to, you know, _lie_ about it?”

Archie opens and closes his mouth, wishing for the Earth to crack open and swallow him whole. Jeff laughs a little, then, shaking his head as he throws the wrapper in the garbage bin under Archie’s desk.

“So, who are we bringing to Sunday lunch? Cheryl or Veronica?” Jeffrey asks, still laughing quietly, clearly amused by the situation.

“V— Veronica.”

“Oh, okay. That’s nice.” Jeff smiles, almost proudly, but then he makes a face. “You’re not gonna get another black eye for this, are you?”

Archie feels his face even warmer, if that’s possible. “Hopefully, no,” he says with a chortle, and his voice sounds really dumb.

“Your mom is calling you for lunch,” Jeff says. It looks like he’s finally going to leave, but he stops with his hand on the doorknob. “Get dressed. You need to cover that hickey,” he says, pointing with his chin at Archie’s collarbone.

Archie automatically touches the sore spot. Jeffrey leaves, laughing to himself — _kids_ , Archie hears him whisper.

He falls back onto the bed, hiding his face with the duvet. After a couple minutes of considering _never_ leaving the bed again, his mom starts calling him, and he realizes that it’s better if he moves before _she_ decides to walk in.

He gets up, puts his clothes back on — a long sleeve t-shirt, though, so no one will notice the bandage on his arm — and heads to the kitchen, rubbing one of his eyes. Both Jeff and his mom are already at the table. “Morning,” he announces, sounding as rumpled as he feels. He spots his phone on the table, next to his plate.

“ _Morning_? It’s past noon,” Mary says. She keeps talking, something about something, but Archie doesn’t really compute, instinctively reaching for his phone as he takes his seat. There’s only one notification, and it makes his legs uneasy.

**_i'm sorry i left without saying goodbye. i woke up before you, and i realized it was better to go before our parents caught us. i'm going back to the hospital later. call me when you see this?_ **

There’s a purple heart punctuating Ronnie’s text, and Archie can’t help but smile at it. He touches the screen with his thumb, so he can answer it — but he only has time to add a blue heart before his mom bats his hand.

“Archibald. _Lunch_.”

Archie quickly presses send and sets his phone down. “Sorry, Mom.”

Jeff chuckles, shaking his head again. Archie would hate him, if he didn't find himself laughing too.

 

 

 

 

Veronica spends the rest of her morning under the covers. She orders herself to fall asleep again, but her mind doesn’t listen to her. She felt so relaxed with Archie earlier — _obviously,_ but not only because of that. His arms around her, the way he stroked her hair, how their breathing was synchronized. But now, she’s just tossing and turning, reliving last night’s moments without meaning.  
  
It’s almost two in the afternoon when her phone starts vibrating on the nightstand, startling her. It’s Jughead, fucking finally. He says that Cheryl is awake and that the doctors are running tests. He and Betty are leaving now, but Jason is coming back. Cheryl should be able to have visitors in an hour or so. Veronica heaves out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding and says she’ll be there as soon as possible.

She takes another shower, dresses in her own carefully chosen clothes, and spends several minutes meticulously doing her make-up — sharp eyeliner, bold lashes, her mouth painted red. In the car, she asks Andre to stop by a flower shop, so she can pick up another bouquet for Cheryl, yellow roses and a few branches of pink cherry blossoms that cost her a small fortune.

The hospital is even further away than she remembers, and walking into the waiting room with the bouquet in hands is like stepping back into a nightmare. The odors are foul, and the noise is unbearable. She walks towards the main desk with business-like determination, her chin held high.  
  
“Hi. I’m here for Cheryl Blossom,” she says.

“Oh, okay, sweetie. Can I get a form of identification?”

Veronica hands over her driver’s license. If the receptionist says anything about family members, Veronica is ready to lecture her on who is Hiram Lodge and how he built half the hospitals in the Chicago area — or to slip her a hundred-dollar bill. Fuck what Jughead would think.

The receptionist, however, just smile and fills out a form, asking Veronica to sign under a dotted line. “Miss Blossom is in room seventy-five. It’s a little further down the hall. I’ll get your visitor tag ready.”

Room 75 has its door open. Veronica firmly holds the bouquet in her hands, drinking in the scene — Jason, sitting on a chair next to his sister’s bed, holding her hand. Their red hair is so bright against all the surrounding blue and white.

Cheryl has tubes in her arms and healing cuts on her face, but she’s awake. She’s smiling softly at Jason. She’s smiling and _breathing_. Her eyes are open, and she’s alive. The monitor says so, beeping in a steady rhythm, the line of her heartbeat glowing in green.

Veronica’s breath gets caught in her throat.

“Hey.” She mutters. The twins look at her direction, and Jason gets up, walking towards her. He takes the heavy flowers from her hands, and Veronica watches as Cheryl’s face softens.

“Hi,” Cheryl whispers back. Veronica feels her lower lip quivering, and crosses the distance between them in a few steps, leaning down to hug Cheryl, as careful as possible. Her body _hurts_ as her muscles wind down.

Cheryl doesn’t smell like herself. There’s no sweet perfume, just a weird, sterile smell. Her skin is a little colder than usual. But she’s _there_. Cheryl holds her back, pressing both of her hands on her shoulder blades, and hides her face in the crook of her neck. Veronica feels her breathing in deeply. The peaks on the monitor ascend ever so slightly, showing the rise of Cheryl’s heartbeat.

Veronica feels the tears filling her eyes and then sliding down her cheeks. “You missed my birthday,” she whispers, hugging Cheryl just a little tighter. The redhead chortles. It takes Veronica another minute to be able to pull away. “How are you feeling?” she asks, brushing Cheryl’s hair out of her face.

“Oh, really great,” the irony blatant in her voice. Jason, who is busy dealing with the extravaganza of flowers, laughs a little. Veronica sniffs and smiles at the same time, drying her tears. “I feel sore, and a little confused, but the doctors said it’s normal.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers, linking her fingers with Cheryl’s. “Really, you’re not _allowed_ to do that to me, ever again, okay? Do you hear me?”

Cheryl nods slowly, holding her hand harder. Jason brings a stool closer to the bed, so Veronica can sit, and then throws himself back on the armchair. The three of them stay in silence for a moment, like they’d often do when they were kids, some Disney movie playing on the television — _“This girl_ , _”_ she remembers Penelope saying to Clifford behind doors, _“she never goes home. Why is she always here?”_

She pretended that it didn’t upset her — Clifford was right; Hiram _was_ a really important business partner — but Jason seemed to notice how her cheeks heated up. _“Don’t mind them_ , _”_ he’d say. _“You’re like our third sister.”_

She used to _hate_ when Jason said that, because that meant he saw her as his _family_ , not as a _girl_. Cheryl, always so jealous, used to hate it too. _“I’m the only one who can be your sister,”_ she’d say.

After the last twelve-hours, Veronica feels more a part of their family than ever before. “Cher…” she gathers the courage to ask. “What happened? This whole thing was…”

“Crazy.” Cheryl sighs. She glances briefly at Jason, and they seem to communicate silently. “I… My parents gave me the opportunity to choose a college abroad. I found it weird, since they were always so adamant about our future — but it would be an amazing opportunity, so I started looking things up. A couple of them were receiving international students this week, so we just… went, I guess. I didn’t say anything to anyone because I wasn’t sure if it would happen. And I didn’t know that they didn’t say anything to JJ about it, either.”

“We had been fighting about that for a while,” Jason adds, his leg shaking nervously. “I wanted a chance like that, but I was still strapped down, while Cheryl had been given all of these choices.”

Veronica nods, a small frown between her eyebrows. “But if you _wanted_ to be there, how did you end up— I can’t understand. What happened the day you called Archie? He said you were asking for help.”

“I visited this college and met some of the students. They invited me to a party. Our parents didn’t want me to go, but I kind of snuck out and went, anyways. I had only two drinks with a couple of guys, and I started feeling dizzy.” She stops, swallowing hard. “I think they roofied me.”

“Oh my God.” Veronica squeezes Cheryl’s hand, letting her mouth hang open.

“I didn’t even realize I was calling Archie. I think I just pressed his name because, you know, Archie Andrews — he’s the first on the contact list.”

“Cheryl…” Veronica chews the inside of her lower lip. She can’t believe it. Her best friend was _drugged_ and who knows what could have happened to her, and yet Veronica’s first reaction was to feel _jealous_ when she saw Archie answering the phone so quickly, that day. Her stomach clenches. “I am _so_ sorry.”

“I was lucky, though. Some girl helped me, took me to my parents’ hotel, I guess. They were _really_ angry at me.” Cheryl looks away for a moment. There’s some sadness in her that maybe had always been there, but it’s just so _blatant_ now. “I don’t think they treated me really well after finding out what happened.”

“She doesn’t remember the next couple of days very well,” Jason says. “The drug, or something.”

“I remember when JJ arrived, though. He got into a real fight with our parents, about all of it. And— well, Dad disowned him. I tried to defend him, but it backfired. Next thing I knew, we were being shipped back to the US.”

“It was all very intense and confusing, V. It’s hard to explain. They really lost it, you know? Dad _hit_ us. Both of us. Mom was screaming and — fuck, when we came back, I was kind of _scared_ of staying at Thornhill. So, we went to that motel, and we were going to plan our next move, when—”

“When I acted like a total bitch,” Cheryl interrupts, her voice a little stronger than before, “said some stupid things, got the car. I was planning to go back to Thornhill, but — I shouldn’t have been driving.”

“Hey, this doesn’t matter anymore.” Veronica folds Cheryl’s hand between hers. “You’re here now. _You're safe_.” She tries a smile, and then glances at Jason. “You both are.”

Jason nods, but his gaze is distant as if his mind is wandering somewhere else. Cheryl’s eyes are also downcast — she’s so fragile, wearing that pale blue nightgown and all those cuts in her skin. Veronica wants to say something else, reassure them that everything is going to be okay, but her throat is tight.

She loves them too much to lie.

 

 

 

 

Although Jeffrey’s cover seemed to have worked, and Mary didn't notice Archie’s absence the previous night (or the bandage on his arm, that he kept hidden under the long sleeve of his shirt during the whole day), Archie spends most of his Saturday doing something he promised Mary he would use the holiday for: studying for the SATs that were coming next weekend.

He’s not particularly thrilled to be devoting hours to filling out the preparatory quiz Betty handed him before Thanksgiving break started, but at least it’s something that can get his mind off of the events of last night. And, most importantly, the events of this _morning_.

He still can’t believe _that_ happened. And _how_ it happened, too — the way _she_ started it, kissing him, whispering that she wanted _that_ , _him_ , so much, making him feel things he didn’t even know he could feel from the inside out. He’s not sure he was able to show Veronica how much it meant to him — them, being together. Like _that_ , and in other ways, too.

Archie takes a quick glance at his SAT vocabulary list. _Momentous._ Something of great importance or significance. Yes, that’s the word he should be using.

He’s finishing the second to last exercise of his quiz, chewing on the edge of his pencil, when his phone starts buzzing on his nightstand. He reaches out to answer it, and his cheeks heat up a little when he sees the name on the screen. Good timing.

“Hey. I was thinking about you,” he says, biting his lower lip. The question on his quiz was actually about gravitational potential energy being transferred to kinetic energy, but it’s all the same.

“Yeah?” she asks, and Archie feels his lips curling up. “I just got home. Visiting hours are over, and Jason is actually at the Coopers, so.” He hears her sigh. She sounds tired. He can only imagine how difficult it was to go back to the hospital by herself. “I think she’ll be okay.”

“We _know_ she will, Ronnie,” Archie says, reassuringly. She keeps quiet for a moment, and he feels that she’s starting to have doubts about Cheryl’s recovery again. “How are _you_?” he asks, his voice stronger.

“I’m good! I’m—” hers is high-pitched. It almost makes him roll his eyes, but she heaves out a breath, interrupting herself. “I’m trying,” she admits. Archie feels a pout shaping his mouth. “Consuelo is here, so at least there’s someone, and—”

“Ronnie, do you need company? I can—” Archie scratches his head. He doesn’t want to sound like some _guy_ who’s just offering this because of what happened. He takes in a deep breath — he knows he’s not that guy, and he thinks that she knows it, too. “I can come over if you want me to.”

“You can?” she breathes. She sounds somewhat surprised or _relieved_ , and Archie frowns, a bit confused. “I mean, are you sure? You’re not busy, and your mom—”

“No. Everything is okay.” He shakes his head a little, smiling to himself. _Crazy girl._ “I was about to finish studying, so I’ll do that. Then I’ll head to your place, okay? How does that sound?”

“Sounds good.” He can hear her little smile in her voice. It makes him smile too. “See you later, Andrews.”

“See you, Ronnie.”

He’s about to take the phone off his ear, when he hears Veronica again. “Archie?”

His smile grows even bigger. “Yes?”

“I was thinking about you, too,” she says before hanging up.

 

 

 

 

Mary doesn’t seem to mind when Archie announces that he’s going out — she asks if he finished studying, which he did; tells him to wear a beanie, which he does; reminds him not to drink, which he doesn’t intend to; and warns him not to miss curfew. Jeffrey, who is watching a game on the television, keeps throwing him pointed looks. Archie avoids them purposefully — he’s not about to tell his mom yet, not without talking to Ronnie about it first. So, when Mary asks where he’s going, he just shrugs and says he’s going to watch a movie with _a friend_.  
  
It makes Mary raise both eyebrows at the vagueness, and Jeff half-coughs, half-laughs, but in the end, she just agrees and tells him to take the truck.

It’s freezing outside. The streets are even a little slippery, but Jeff has already swapped the tires to the winter ones. Archie drives carefully, the radio low. He has been on this road many times now, from his place to the Pembrooke, and it’s a path he wants to keep on taking for a long time.

 _I was thinking about you, too_. Archie can’t _stop_ smiling to himself while driving. He can’t wait to see her again — even though it was a smart move for her to leave this morning, he wishes they could have woken up together. He wants to take in her perfume from up-close. To kiss her and show her that he’s always thinking about her. _Always_.

The Pembrooke’s hall is much warmer than the world outside. Smithers, the doorman, lets him in unannounced, with a nod and a small smile. He says that _Miss Veronica said she’d be waiting for you_ , and Archie feels even giddier. In the elevator, he notices that the tip of his nose is red from the cold, but there’s not much he can do. His hands get warm quickly, so he takes off his gloves.

It only takes thirty seconds for Veronica to open the door after he rings the bell. She’s dressed down already, golden legs exposed by the short cobalt blue pajama set she’s wearing under a white, sheer robe. Her hair is brushed in soft waves, and her makeup is mostly off. Archie involuntarily bites his lower lip to stop the foolish smile coming to his face, drinking in how the satin touches the high points of her curves.

“Hey.” She smiles too, perhaps a twinkle of _something_ in her eyes. He’s ready for the stupid, familiar flutter inside of him, but he’s not ready for the way she approaches him, tiptoeing to hug him tight. Archie leans down, diving his nose into her hair and breathing in. He closes his eyes, taking in the scent he fell asleep to. “Looks like you’re cold.”

He feels warm, now. “Yeah, it’s terrible outside,” he says as she grabs him by the hand. Archie takes off his quilted jacket, placing it and the gloves over a table in the foyer. He remembers the packaging he had in the inside pockets, then. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you something.”

She smiles, watching curiously as he fumbles around the jacket. “You did?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing. I know you had a crappy day and I think it might make you feel better,” he says, taking the chocolate box out of his pocket. He got it on a whim while driving past Teuscher. It was way out of his budget, so he could only buy the smallest one, with four pieces.

“You bought me Swiss chocolate?” she chuckles, taking the box in her hand.

“Well, yeah. Chocolate is always good, and I know you had a good time with Cheryl in Switzerland. So …” Archie feels his cheeks heat up. “Too much?” he asks, a bit unsure. He’s not really used to any of this — just like playing the guitar, he figures this is something he needs to teach himself.

Veronica looks up at him with a smile and takes one step closer, placing a hand on the nape of his neck. “Just enough,” she whispers, and he smiles too, leaning down to kiss her. The tip of his nose is still cold, though, and it makes her giggle when it brushes against hers. His lips land on her teeth, but he doesn’t mind, kissing her smile. “I love it. And your beanie.” She plants a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Archie feels the satin under his fingertips when he touches her waist under the robe. He wants to kiss her harder, feel her tongue against his, but it’s probably not a good idea yet, not when Consuelo and her vacuum can show up at any minute.

“Oh,” he pulls apart suddenly. “I have something for Consuelo too,” he remembers, going back to the jacket. Veronica looks even more amused. “It’s just one truffle, but hopefully a really good one? It was four dollars.”

Veronica laughs. “Why did you get her a truffle?”

He shrugs. “I figured that if I’m going to be around a lot, she should like me, or at least tolerate me.”

Veronica raises one eyebrow, in that flirty way that never fails to get his face warm. “So, you’re going to be around a lot?” she asks. Archie kind of holds his breath, opening his mouth to answer — probably something stupid — but he must look a little distressed with the teasing, because she shakes her head before he can say anything. “I’d really like that.”

She kisses him quickly and disappears for a second into what he thinks is the kitchen. He can hear her speaking in Spanish and prepares himself to wear his best smile when she comes back, because she brings Consuelo with her. “Buenas noches,” he tries in his best accent. The maid greets him back, but she looks as unfriendly as she did the last time they’d seen each other.

“Archie quiere darte algo, Consuelo,” Veronica stands by him, sounding excited even though Archie has no idea what she just said. “Give her the gift, Archie.” She pats his arm. _Oh_.

“Yes, uh — Consuelo, por usted. _No,_ para usted.” He hands over the truffle. It’s inside a small, square box, and it has a bow around it. “Trufa de chocolate.” He tries to repeat exactly what Google Translator taught a him back in the truck.

Consuelo’s mouth twists into a shape that _could_ be a smile, even though it’s a skeptical one, as she accepts the box Archie is giving her. “Thank you,” she says with a strong accent. Veronica beams, and Archie smiles too — it feels like a three-point basket, somehow.

Veronica and Consuelo proceed to talk quickly in Spanish, things that Archie doesn’t even pretend he understands. He waits until the conversation is over, and it ends with Consuelo crossing her arms over her chest, throwing Archie an intimidating look that he’s not sure why is being directed to him. “Okay. But guest bedroom,” she points, “and only because Miss Veronica is sad.”

Archie frowns, deeply confused, as he watches Consuelo walk away. He immediately turns to Veronica, who seems to be very much _aware_ of whatever is going on. “I told her you’d be sleeping over,” she explains, casually, fumbling with the chocolate box in her hand. “That is… If you want to, of course.”

He’s caught off guard — he kind of promised his mom he’d be back by curfew. Plus, he didn’t really bring anything, _and_ he’s not sure Jeff will cover for him this time. But Veronica is doing that thing, chewing on her lower lip from the inside out, in a way that shows her vulnerability, and he knows that she just doesn’t want to be alone in that house. Archie reaches out to touch her wrist, running his thumb over her skin. “I guess I am, then.”

It’s not like it’s some huge sacrifice, anyway.

 

 

 

 

Veronica pouts when he takes off his beanie but then spends a good amount of time combing his hair with her fingers, which is nice. He’s sure he has a permanent, dumb smile playing on his lips, but he doesn’t mind. They’re on the living room couch, hands loosely linked together as they talk while waiting for Consuelo to heat up some dinner.

She recounts to him what Cheryl and Jason told her earlier at the hospital, and Archie feels the smile fading away as he listens, feeling equally guilty and grateful for how good his own family is.

“They _hit_ them, Archie.” She holds his hand more firmly. “I mean, it’s not a surprise that their parents suck, but I never thought it would come to this.”

“That’s horrible,” Archie sighs. “And what about now? Were they really disowned? Can you even do that to your child?”

“I’m not sure about the legalities, but—” She takes in a deep breath, exhaling very slowly. “Apparently they’re back in Chicago by now and haven’t even gone to the hospital to see their daughter. I mean, if that’s not a sign that they don’t give a fuck, I don’t know what is.”

She looks down. Archie cups her face with his hand, stroking her cheek. “Hey, it’s a messy situation, but things are going to be fine. Their grandmother seems like a badass, and there’s always a way to protect minors from these th—”

“It’s not just that. It’s—” Veronica holds the hand that’s on her face, intertwining their fingers. “Cheryl wanted to leave, Archie. She was going to move across the ocean, and I didn’t know anything about it.”

“No one knew, Ronnie. Not even Jason.”

“You don’t get it. Cheryl and I have been friends since we were two years old, Archie. We didn’t even know what that meant, but we were already friends. I’m an only child, like you, but with her by my side, I’ve never felt _alone_. She had Jason, yes, but she also had me, you know? We were inseparable. Even when Betty came to the picture, it didn’t matter — it _never_ mattered. She always stood by me. I always counted on her. And I thought — I assumed she’d feel the same.”

“Look, just because Cheryl was considering going away for college, it doesn’t mean that she didn’t count on you. You know better than I do that her parents never considered that possibility before. Maybe she just didn’t want to jinx it.”

Veronica shakes her head, stubbornly, but she keeps her hand linked with his. Archie’s silent for a moment, watching her face, the way her eyes go everywhere around the living room except his own. She sighs again, as if she knows he’s waiting for her to explain what’s really going on inside her head. “I feel like I failed her,” she says, blinking, and Archie notices her eyes getting brighter. “I’ve been so focused on fixing my friendship with Betty and— I took her for granted. She would have told me, had it been different.”

“Hey, whatever happened between you guys, you tried to fix it. I know for a fact that you apologized.” He tries a smile. Archie remembers that day, the Monday after the Variety Show — he was in the hallway, nervous, wondering if he ruined his possible shot with Veronica by singing a song about her so publicly while she apparently, wanted to be friends, when she and Cheryl showed up together at school, their arms linked. He asked Cheryl about it, later, and the redhead just shrugged, and said that _all she ever needed to do was apologize_. “I mean, I know it wasn’t so easy to get back on track, but—”

“I apologized, but I couldn’t own it. I—” Veronica finally looks up, right into his eyes, and she looks almost _embarrassed_ , like someone who’s about to do something that they shouldn’t. “I apologized, and I avoided her. Now, you’re here with me.” Her lips curl up, ever so slightly. Archie can’t help but mirror this smile, feeling her hand in his. “We have this great thing going on now while she’s dealing with this really, _really_ messed up situation, and I just feel…” She heaves out a breath.

The air that she breathes out is the air that he breathes in. A part of him, that Archie didn’t know was there, makes his throat tighten — he has been pushed away by Veronica before, _twice_ , but he refuses to believe that she’d do that after everything that happened between them in the past forty-eight hours, _especially_ this morning. He swallows his irrational doubts and touches her chin. “I get what you’re saying. Do you think we should keep it on the low for now? You know, until this thing with Cheryl and Jason is solved?”

Her doll-eyes widen. She seems equally surprised and relieved, increasing her grip on his hand. “You’d be cool with that?”

Archie slides a bit closer to her on the couch, resting his hands on her bare thighs. Her skin is the warmest and softest thing he has ever touched. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he says, lower, just for her to hear. She places both hands on his face, caressing his cheeks and jaw, back to his ears, the way she likes to do. The fact that they’ve been close enough times now for him to notice a pattern makes his heart buzz in a pleasant way. “As long as I can be with you… Everyone else doesn’t matter.”

Maybe this time it _is_ too much, but she giggles and pulls him into a kiss, so deep that he decides he doesn’t care.

They’re both a little breathless when they pull apart, Archie’s hand somehow finding its way up the back of her thigh towards her butt, her leg half-straddling him, her arms around his neck. Somehow, Consuelo still hasn’t shown up with the vacuum cleaner — something is frying and smells good in the kitchen — but Archie figures they should stop before even more vivid images from, uh, _breakfast_ come back to his mind and ruin dinner altogether.

“Ronnie,” he mutters when he feels her lips (and just a hint of teeth) on his jaw, and then laughs. “I remembered something.” Her answer is a small sound against his skin that’s _completely_ unfair. He decides to go on. “It’s okay if we don’t tell anyone, but my family needs to know.” It's apparently a mood killer, because she does remove her leg from where it's curled up over his knee, and his hand comes back to rest on her waist. “Because they kind of already know.”

Pulling back, Veronica has her eyebrows creased. Archie makes a face. “But they were not there when I— Or were th— oh, my God!”

“No! No, _no_ , no, they only got there _hours_ later, and by the way, you left at the right time. Smart move.” He tries a smile, but she still looks kind of panicky. “To be honest, Jeff only found out because we… Left my t-shirt in the kitchen, and my clothes were all over the place in my room.” He winces, feeling his cheeks heat up all over again. “And the condom wrapper was on the floor.”

Veronica’s expression changes almost abruptly — she’s worried for a second and then, the next, dimples form around her mouth and she’s cracking up, throwing her head back.

Archie, whose whole face is on fire, chuckles. “You’re laughing, huh?” He pulls her closer by the waist, leaning in to try to kiss her. She bends backwards, squirming as she jokingly pulls away from his searching lips. “I also had to explain who got me naked with a hickey on display. I don’t think he would have believed it if I said I gave it myself.”

Veronica stops running away much faster than Archie anticipated, having leaned over enough so her back’s against the armrest of the couch. Archie hovers over her, finally kissing her. She hooks her fingers around the collar of his shirt, pulling it down a little, her eyes searching when they pull apart. “A hickey? I don’t see it.”

Archie brushes her hair away from her face. “You can’t see it unless I’m shirtless.”

She kinks an eyebrow. “Guess that has to happen, then,” Veronica says, capturing his lower lip between hers and sucking it gently, then placing a hand on the middle of his chest to push him away. “Dinner first.”

 

 

 

 

They have dinner curled up on the couch — Consuelo made _carne asada_ fries, complete with cheese, homemade guacamole, and sour cream, which is not _real_ Mexican food, according to Veronica, but it tastes delicious just the same. They indulge, eating until they’re about to explode — but still, they have space to share the chocolates he bought for her.

After they take the plates back to the kitchen and she promises Consuelo in the name of the Lady of Guadalupe that he will sleep in the guest bedroom, the maid says goodnight and retreats to her room. Both Archie and Veronica are too full to even think about any kind of _activities_ , so they just go back to the couch — she covers their legs with a blanket and leans onto his side as they try to choose something to watch on Netflix — _nothing sad, please_ — until their food digests.

She doesn’t find anything particularly interesting, and Archie has been only binge-watching _The Ultimate Beastmaster_ for weeks now, which he’s sure she won’t be caught dead watching. Kevin has been pestering them both about _The Good Place_ , though, so they decide it might be a nice time to start.

Archie swings an arm around her, and she intertwines her fingers with his. The show is funny — _witty_ , that’s the SAT word — though Archie finds himself a little confused at the beginning, but laughs when she does, feeling her giggling against him. Half-way through the second episode, when he’s finally getting a better grip on what’s going on, he realizes that she’s suddenly very quiet, breathing deeply.

Archie smiles, seeing that she has fallen asleep. He takes a second to look at her, the raven hair covering her face, the way her mouth is shaped in a pout, the flutter of her long, thick eyelashes. He fell asleep before her this morning, and he’s glad that she’s resting now. She deserves it.

He turns off the TV, carefully untucks the blanket from around them, and moves, scooping her into his arms. She stirs, but doesn’t wake up, and he carries her to her room, sort of surprised that he remembers the way after all these months. 

Archie lays Veronica down on one side of her bed, over the duvet. He goes back to the living room to get the blanket they were using and lays it over her. She sighs pleasantly, burying her cheek in the pillow.

He could leave now and make it home before his curfew, but there must be a reason why she asked him to stay — and that very morning, he promised he would, for as long as she’d have him.

Archie brushes her hair away from her face, smiling softly as he runs his thumb down her cheek. “I’ll be next door, babe,” he whispers.

He intends to keep every single promise he ever makes to Veronica.

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeey! welcome to the premiere of LM S2? lol i know i took a little while to come out with this chapter, i was just struck by the dreaded writer's block. but i think it's all good now. i expect the next one to come out quicker.
> 
> i know nothing majorly exciting happens in this chapter (which is a breathing space from the big events of the previous two chapters lol), but it's also a good follow up to the events of the last one - cheryl is awake! she told us what happened! veronica and archie are disgustingly cute together, and they decided to keep things on the low for now, but how long can that last?
> 
> i'm kind of excited for the next few of chapters 'cause there's a lot of HIGH! SCHOOL! STUFF! coming and now varchie are together, so that shall be fun. don't be disappointed for the lack of smut - it will definitely be popping here and there now that they've done the deed, lol.
> 
> hope you enjoy! thanks to nic as usual, LM is nothing without her. and i hope to receive your feedback here and answer your questions on tumblr.
> 
> song at the beginning is "in the morning" by FIELDS. nice tune.


	28. Chapter 28

_you can be my steering wheel, i'm holding on to you_

 

 

 

Veronica feels her body moving. She’s confused for a second when she realizes she’s in the backseat of a car, her head against the window. It’s bright outside, and the sunlight hurts her eyes. She can see Archie’s fiery red hair behind the wheel, and Cheryl is in the passenger seat, her long hair braided and her red fingernails tapping on the headboard.

“What’s going on?” she asks. Her last memory is of being on the couch with Archie.

“We should turn on the radio,” Cheryl says. Veronica can’t understand — she tries saying something else, but she sounds distant, like she’s coming from some other universe. Frowning, she looks around, trying to figure out whose car this is, when Cheryl screams, and Archie changes the direction of the car so fast that he loses control.

Veronica places her hands over her head. It’s over as fast as it started — she tries to scream, but the sound of crunching metal is deafening. She can’t hear herself or the others in the front seats. She prepares herself for pain, but it doesn’t come.

She waits for a long time, stuck, unsure what to do. She can’t reach Archie or Cheryl. She can’t talk to them, and they’re not moving. They’re not breathing. After what feels like an eternity, Hiram Lodge helps her out of the wreckage — he’s wearing a tailored suit, but the collar of his white shirt is drenched in blood, bruises on his hands and face. Veronica feels her stomach stir.

“Daddy,” she says, reaching out to cup his face in her hands. He doesn’t even look like himself — he looks like some sort of disfigured monster she should be afraid of. “You’re bleeding.”

“So is everyone else, mija.”

Veronica looks around. There are bodies on the road, rotting in the sun. Her father places a hand on her lower back, pushing her forward to get closer — she sees them, now. Betty, Cheryl, Kevin, Reggie, Jughead, Jason, her mom, and Archie. They’re dead. They’re all _gone_.

 

 

 

 

She wakes up startled, and her throat aches like someone tried to strangle her and almost succeeded. Veronica feels her quivering heart in her chest, breathing fast, as she looks around and realizes that someone, probably Archie, carried her to her room. There are sticky, prickling tears at the corners of her eyes, and her hand travels to her neck.

It takes her a long moment to understand that _it’s okay. You’re safe. It was just a dream_ — but even when she does, it won’t go away from the back of her mind. The mutilated, bloody mess that was her father’s face. Everyone she ever cared about lifeless, wasting away under the scalding heat like slaughtered animals.

Her _abuelita_ always said that _sueños son como señales_ , dreams are like signals, and Veronica never cared too much about this kind of bullshit. She was, rationally speaking, just too tired and aghast with everything that happened last night — but she couldn’t help but feel _terrified_. Not thinking it through, she pushes the covers away and gets up, not bothering to be silent when she leaves her room and crosses the hallway towards the guest bedroom.

She doesn’t knock. The lights are off, but Archie is there, half-laying on the bed, the phone in his hand painting his face with a bluish light. She has no idea if he’s having trouble sleeping or if not much time has passed since she dozed off on the couch — but he looks very much alive, although confused by the sight of her at his door. Veronica lets her lips part, and a tear escapes from her eyelashes as she gulps for air. He’s still here.  
  
_He’s still here_.  
  
“Ronnie?” he asks in a low voice, setting his phone down. The pale blue light barely illuminates his face, but she can see him frowning. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” she says, but with her throat dry and her chest tightening, it doesn’t sound very believable. His frown deepens when she starts walking towards him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Archie immediately touches her forearm when she reaches the edge of the bed, softly encircling her wrist. He’s dressed down to his boxers, the bottom half covered by the comforter, but she can see his bandaged arm now that he’s shirtless; her eyes well up all over again.  
  
Veronica doesn’t think too much. She braces herself on his shoulders, leaning down to capture his lips with hers. He sighs, instinctively reaching out to cup her face.

With her chest against his, she can feel his heart beating, and the lifeless face in her dreams come back to the back of her mind. The tear that was dangling on her eyelashes falls, right between their lips. Archie pulls apart when he feels the salty taste. The phone light has gone off now, and in the dark, they can’t really see each other faces. But somehow, Veronica knows how the exact expression he’s wearing. “Are you crying?”  
  
“Shh,” she tries against his mouth, placing one hand on his cheek, trapping his lower lip between hers, touching it with the tip of her tongue.

She can’t even _begin_ to explain that she had a surrealist dream about a car crash, that both him and Cheryl ignored her, that her father _saved her_ but just to let her know that everybody else she had ever cared about was dead and reliving the dream inside her mind for even a split second makes her freeze from inside out.

Veronica can’t tell him, doesn’t _want_ to tell him. She just wants him close to her. Wants him to make her feel good again, like he did before. Wants his body against hers and his worshipping hands making her forget the world.  
  
But Archie doesn’t comply, pulling away gently. “Ronnie…”  
  
Veronica tries again, kissing him harder this time, straddling him to find a better angle on his mouth. Archie barely rests his hands on her waist, reluctantly kissing her back, but Veronica presses her hips down against his, her tongue in his mouth. His hands feel heavier on her, but she can still feel him holding back.  
  
“Ronnie,” he starts as soon as she breaks the kiss. Veronica feels some sort of anger bubbling up inside of her — why can’t he be a little more like _Reggie_ and just be _selfish_ for a moment? “Why don’t you tell me what’s going—”  
  
“Archie,” Veronica breathes, her heart pulsing in her throat, “can you please stop talking and kiss me?”  
  
She doesn’t wait for him to answer to kiss him again — but he’s a little more responsive this time, so it might have worked. Veronica is not sure of where this sudden urge is coming from, or if it’s even there at all. This morning, when she got out of his mom’s shower and saw his back muscles moving under a plain white shirt in that small kitchen where she spent Thanksgiving with him, after having spent the night in the hospital with her, she wanted him so fucking much she couldn’t fit it inside of her. But now, she just wants to quiet the noise in her head. She just wants to feel something, _anything,_ other than sadness.

Archie’s mouth on hers and his hands — now on her hips, and he’s sitting up, pulling her closer to him — feel good. His body is starting to react, too, skin warm as if he has a fever, and Veronica digs her nails into his shoulders, a little down his arms. He stops kissing her but thankfully doesn’t say anything, just moves his mouth and his hot breath to her neck. Veronica maintains her eyes closed, trying to focus on the sensation, but she keeps seeing it, behind her eyelids: her dad’s face battered and bruised, his shirt covered in blood.  
  
That feeling in the pit of her stomach — anger, she called it, but it could be something else — stirs again, and Archie’s careful, attentive kisses on her neck are not enough to coil it right now. She grabs his hair between her fingers, pulling them, bringing his mouth to hers again, their teeth colliding. Veronica still feels cold even though Archie’s skin is so warm.

She scratches his back, pulling a moan from the bottom of his throat. She can feel him through his boxers, half-hard or something, but somehow, it’s not her focus — she doesn’t know where her focus is. It’s probably still back at that fucking hospital, Cheryl’s life represented by a peaking, glowing thread. Her father being the one to let her know that all she has left is _him_ , because everyone else will leave.  
  
The tears come back to her eyes. Veronica bites Archie’s lower lip, but he breaks the kiss, making another sound — it’s not a pleasant one. “ _Ouch._ Ronnie,” he puts both hands on her shoulders, holding her there, “this is— what’s wrong?”

His voice is different. Firm, serious, steady like the hands resting on her shoulders. Veronica shudders, taking in a deep breath, feeling a little disgusted with herself. She runs a hand through her hair and gets off him, sitting by his side on the bed, her face hidden in her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”  
  
She hears him heaving out a heavy breath, and then feels the mattress jostling with his weight as he comes a little closer. Veronica wanted his touch just a second ago, and now she thinks she dreads it. But when it comes — he places his warm, calloused hand on her back, under her hair, right above the hem of her top — she realizes that she still wants it. “You can tell me anything,” he whispers, quietly, pressing his fingers onto the nape of her neck.  
  
Veronica quickly dries her tears. “I… I don’t want to be alone.”

It’s an awful feeling — to say something that makes her so horribly vulnerable — but Archie moves her hair off her shoulder and presses a soft kiss right on top of the thin, satin strap of her pajamas. “Okay,” Archie says, simply, kissing her again, a little higher on her shoulder. She can feel a soft smile against her skin. He holds her then, wraps his strong arms around her, and pulls her with him so they can lay down together. “There are many things you can use my body for. A pillow, for example.”

She closes her eyes, hiding her face on his chest. The muscles of his stomach tighten when he laughs a little, and Veronica somehow feels mortified for wanting him to be different even if for the slightest second. “Such a waste of abs.”  
  
He chuckles, his nose pressed into her hair. They breathe in sync for a long moment, before he breaks the quietness. “You’re not alone, Ronnie. I’m still your friend, you know? And the good part is that now we can also just… stay together, like this.”

She nods slowly. _Together._ There’s a part of her that’s scared to get too comfortable, to get used to the way his fingertips are caressing her scalp in a steady rhythm, and then be left to fend for herself all over again. “I had a nightmare,” she admits despite herself, feeling silly for several reasons. “I’m— I was really scared yesterday, Archie. I never realized how quickly you can lose someone _forever_.”

He stays in silence for a while, his chest going up and down at a peaceful pace. Veronica wonders if he’s asleep, but after what feels like an eternity, he kisses her head, breathing in her hair. “I was scared too. But my dad always says that we can learn something from the worst situations, and I think that… These things are inevitable, you know? Anyone can be gone at any time, so all we can do is just be the best person that we can be and appreciate the moments that we have with the people we want near.”

The way he says it — almost reciting, like a little boy telling his parents the moral of the story — it’s so endearing that Veronica could cry again, if she didn’t feel so much better already. She is a mess, and there’s a lot to work on and definitely loads of mistakes that she’s made — but Archie isn't one of them. “When did you get so smart?” she jokes, her cheek against his chest.  
  
He laughs. “I guess Betty is a great tutor.”

Veronica smiles, but a small pout forms on her lips. “Hey, I helped you with history!”  
  
“You really think I learned anything?” he teases. Veronica turns to her side, falsely offended, but he doesn’t take his arms away, spooning her. She smiles when she feels his face on the crook of her neck. “All I could think about that day was you in your glasses, and how badly I wanted to kiss you.”  
  
He does kiss her, right behind her ear, making a shiver come up her spine. She giggles, and he laughs with her, resting his chin on her shoulder. Veronica closes her eyes, clearly remembering that day, the light blue t-shirt he was wearing, the way his eyes were like honey under the bright daylight. “I wanted to kiss you too,” she whispers, scratching the thin hairs of his forearms. “Especially when you started singing.”  
  
“Oh, really?” She feels his lips stretch into a smile against her ear. _“I’ve been lost before, but now I’m found. I didn’t think it’d be so soon…”_ he half-sings, half-whispers. Veronica laughs first, because he’s _so_ cheesy and this is downright ridiculous. But then, she just closes her eyes and listens, feels his warm breath against her and his lovely voice echoing in her brain. She somehow knows this song. It’s not one of his, but it’s definitely fitting. _“And I’ve been waiting for you to arrive, I just didn’t think it would be you… Those long nights are calling out for me and I, all I’m thinking of is you… Oooooo…” He_ chuckles. _“Won’t you spend the night with me? ‘Cause all I ever want to be, oh, is waking up with you right next to me… Oh, next to meeee…”_ he purposefully stretches the last note, making them both laugh a little.  
  
“You will,” she promises, planting a kiss on the back of his hand as the tiredness starting to dance behind her eyes again.  
  
Veronica can still feel his smile and hear his humming voice, softly luring her back to sleep.

 

 

 

 

She only wakes up when the alarm on his phone goes off and she finds it vibrating right next to her pillow. She stirs in Archie’s embrace to turn it off, frowning at the bright light. The time on the screen reads 4:45 AM.

Archie groans, signaling that he woke up too. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, and Veronica giggles. Just like last morning, he’s still holding her, tangled in limbs, and she couldn’t feel more comfortable. The second attempt at slumber was definitely dreamless and recovering. “Why is your alarm set so early?”

“Mmm,” he mutters, and then spends so much time in silent that Veronica thinks he might have fallen asleep again, when he goes on. “I thought I could go home before my mom realizes I’m not there.”

The thought of him leaving soon makes her stupidly sad. Turning around inside his arms, Veronica brushes her nose against his chin, her eyes still closed. Archie’s hands ghost over her mid back, and she feels him smiling when she tilts her head up until their noses touch. “At what time does she wake up on Sundays?”

“Seven…” he kisses her quickly, both their eyes still closed, “Maybe eight.”

She frowns, smiling a little against his lips. “So _why is your alarm set so early?_ ” she asks, teasingly, throwing a leg over his hips just to get a little closer to him. Archie holds her thigh in place, his thumb caressing her bare skin. “Or were you planning to pay me a visit before leaving, Archiekins?”

It’s still dark, and she can’t see his face. So, she’s not sure if he’s blushing when he chuckles. “Excuse me? You’re the one paying me visits in the middle of the night,” he says with a hint of banter in his voice, lips searching hers again. Veronica feels a buzzy feeling going through her lower belly and brings her hips closer to him as her lips part against his.

They kiss unhurriedly for long minutes, until she feels breathless, his hand tangled up in her hair, between her head and the pillow. Archie is the one breaking the kiss, punctuating it with a soft bite on her lower lip, something he doesn’t do often, and it covers her skin with goosebumps. She moans, really softly, just to encourage him — and it probably does, because he rolls over on top of her, settling between her thighs, searching her mouth again.

Veronica lazily runs her hands over his torso, mainly his shoulders and his chest, feeling his muscles and his collarbone under her fingertips. “Do you feel better?” Archie asks in a low voice, his lips moving so softly down her jawline. She wishes there was light, so she could see his eyes and the color of his hair.

“I do,” she assures him, pushing her hips up a little, so she can press against him. It’s such a different feeling than earlier on. Archie sighs, one of his hands on her waist, finding her skin under her satin top. Veronica pushes her head back into the pillow to give him more access of her neck, and he kisses it, lips and tongue and breath, his hand even higher under her shirt.

“You smell so good,” he says, breathing in, his uttering voice reaching a deeper tone. Veronica doesn’t know if it’s that or the way his thumb flicked over her nipple, but a small moan comes out from the bottom of her throat, fire rising from her core. She parts her knees even further, but she can feel him holding back. So, she crosses her legs behind his thighs, bringing him closer.

“Five drops of Chanel N.5,” she whispers. In the back of her mind, she’s aware that he probably won’t get that reference and doesn’t give two fucks about Marilyn Monroe, but she can’t care, because now his growing erection is pressing against her center, through the layers of fabric. His hand is fully cupping her breast under her top, and the other is pulling her hair just enough.

Archie’s mouth goes lower on her collarbone. Veronica slides down the straps of her top, and he helps pushing it down until it’s a puddle of satin around her waistline. He exhales heavily against her skin, opening his mouth to suck on her left breast. She digs her fingers into his hair, pushing her hips up a little.

Veronica reaches to her side, feeling her way until she finds the switch of the nightstand lamp. A yellow, soft light bathes his features, and she watches as his pink tongue circles around her nipple, the way his copper eyelashes are fluttering. “God, Ronnie,” Archie mutters, opening his eyes to look up at her, and he’s so damn gorgeous with his hair all rumpled and his mouth on her.

She bites her lower lip, catching his chin in her hand, pulling him up until they can kiss again. It’s scalding hot under his body and under the covers, and she’s sweating in the nape of her neck, but she doesn’t mind. He’s so hard against her; it makes her whimper. Archie’s hand goes from her head down her neck and torso, all the way down to the waistband of her shorts, and Veronica downright _mewls_ when his fingers slide against her. He breaks the kiss, groaning into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, looking down as if to catch the movement of his hand. “You’re— you’re so wet."

It’s true. She can feel it, her arousal drenching her underwear and his hand, even stronger than when they were together for the first time. It’s _Archie_. It’s the heat of his body on hers, the way he kissed her when they woke up. The way he doesn’t let go when they fall asleep or how he sang her a cheesy song. The way he seems to know what she wants when not even she does. “It’s you,” her breath catches as he keeps moving his fingers. “All you, I’m—"

“Tell me what you need, Ronnie,” his voice explodes on her ear as he presses his fingertips at her entrance, thumb flicking over her clit, and Veronica is so turned on by the way he’s moving and the warmth of his breath, that she just buckles against his fingers and pulls him to a burning kiss. Wrapping her hand around him, above the fabric of his boxers and tearing a groan from the bottom of his throat, she decides to show him what she needs, not tell.

 

 

 

 

The sun starts to rise a little before seven. Archie showers in the guest bathroom and puts on the grey t-shirt that she borrowed the day before and the Northside Prep sweatshirt that she stole a million years ago. Not that his clothing will make any difference if his mom has figured out that he didn’t sleep at home without sending one single text, but at least it’s not a complete walk of shame.

Looking at himself in the mirror as he dries his hair with a towel, Archie notices his slightly swollen lips, and chuckles, shaking his head a bit, absurdly _proud_ of himself because, _damn_. But then his smug expression softens, and then he’s just smiling, feeling lukewarm blood running all over his body, warming up his fingertips.

The lamp is already off, but now there’s some dim light coming from the windows. Veronica is awake, half sitting on the bed, the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing before engulfing her smaller frame. Her hair is messy, more wavy than usual. She’s a vision. His smile grows even bigger.

“Shouldn’t you go to your room now?” He sits on the edge of the bed, not able to resist leaning down to kiss her lightly. “Consuelo might be upset to find you here in the morning.”

Veronica places a hand on his cheek. “The rules are _no boys in Miss Veronica’s room,_ not _no Miss Veronica in boys’ rooms_.” She smiles against his mouth. “Are you sure you need to go?” she asks, just a hint of tease.

Archie kisses her for a moment, fighting the urge to go back under the covers with her and strip her of his shirt. Ultimately, he wins against his instincts, taking in a deep breath and pulling away even though her hand is already on the back of his neck. “Yes, babe,” he says but sucks on her lower lip a bit before breaking the kiss completely. Veronica half-smiles, half-pouts. Archie mimics her, but then gets a little more serious, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Are you going to the hospital today?”

Veronica inhales deeply, her smile fading. “Yes, I’ll go when visiting hours start. Are you?”

Archie swallows hard. He supposes that he needs to visit Cheryl, sooner or later — he _wants to_ , she’s his friend and he was as scared of losing her as everyone else. But the last time they had even spoken to each other before this whole mess was on Halloween, and he’s not sure if she’d want to see him. He’s also not sure if _he’s_ ready to see her as well. Feeling Veronica’s fingertips caressing his cheek, he shakes his head. “I’ll have to wait a couple of days.” He sighs. “There’s stuff I need to study for the SATs. If I don’t pass, Betty will murder me before my mom can.”

It’s not a lie, at least.

“Oh, no one wants the Return of Buzzkill Betty.” Veronica smiles, kissing him softly. “Okay. I’ll go alone and endure that hospital again.”

“You can call me when you’re done? I meant what I said.” Archie tucks her hair behind her ear. “Even if we’re not telling anyone yet, I’m always here for you.”

Veronica looks at him for the longest moment, her eyes big and soft, her hand still on his face. And then, before he can find anything to say to her — he’s out of words, really, because she’s just _so pretty_ and he does _not_ want to leave, plus he can’t seem to stop smiling, not when she’s looking at him like that, like he’s something _special_ — Ronnie holds his face in both her hands and kisses him again, pushing him away right afterwards.

“Get lost, Andrews,” she says, grabbing a pillow and hiding her face with it. Archie laughs, gathers all the strength left in him to get up and get his wallet, phone and keys and _go_.

But, of course, his mind does not leave the Pembrooke for a second.

 

 

 

 

On Monday morning, Veronica is getting ready for school, almost finished applying her berry lipstick, when her phone buzzes on her vanity table. The notification on the screen shows a text from Archie, and it makes her smile. It says _good morning_ followed by a snowman emoji and a blue heart. Outside, she knows the city has woken up white. It’s not the first snow of the year, but it’s the first _considerate_ one, according to the news.

She’s thinking about something cute to answer him, when there are knocks on her door. Her parents are back from New York — their flight was delayed by the snow and only arrived after ten in the evening, so she had pretended that she was asleep. They didn’t check on her, and she felt _stupid_ because she wanted to cry. Now, there’s no way she’ll be able to avoid them. Heaving out a breath, she just sends Archie a _good morning_ and lifts her chin before her mother walks in.

“Veronica!” Hermione doesn’t sound cold and composed as she did before the holidays — on the contrary, she sounds _upset_ and distressed, her phone in her hand. Veronica barely acknowledges her, fixing her gaze on the mirror and on the task of applying the lipstick perfectly. “Mija, I didn’t see this text you sent me before — what do you mean, you were _at the hospital_?!”

 _Oh, right_ , Veronica breathes in. _Play that card_. “Cheryl got into a car accident.”

“Were you involved in that?! I thought you were gr—”

Pressing her fingers to her temples to avoid a headache forming behind her eyes, Veronica sighs. “I wasn’t _involved_ in anything, Mom. My best friend got into a car accident and almost lost her life. I broke your rules to go out and spend the night at the hospital with her. Are you going to augment my punishment because I tried to be a good friend, or are you still mad that I didn’t want to be whored out to the Mayor's son?”

“Veronica.” Hermione runs a hand through her long, dark hair. Veronica looks at her through the mirror. Her mother always seemed like the most beautiful woman in the world to her, and that’s still true, but there’s something else there, a _weakness_ that she doesn’t want to relate to. She opens her mouth to say something — Veronica gets ready for the speech. Something about, _your father and I are concerned about your behavior_ , some bullshit like that — but she seems to swallow her words down, only inhaling deeply. “Is Cheryl okay? Do Clifford and Penelope need anything?”

Veronica snorts, quickly putting away her makeup and putting her phone and lipstick of the day in her school bag. Placing the strap around her shoulder, she stops in front of Hermione. “Cheryl is gonna be in a hospital bed with a damaged liver for weeks and turns out that Clifford and Penelope are even worse parents than you and Daddy.” She narrows her eyes. “I’m getting a ride with Betty. Grounding is over, Mami.”

 

 

 

 

It feels like a million years since Archie’s been to school, even though that was only last Wednesday. Everything changed so _much_ since then, in so many aspects — but no one knows, and his routine is supposed to be the exact same. So he just goes along with it, trying not to get distracted by certain Veronica-related _memories_ when class gets way too boring.

During their first class together, he hands Betty the preparatory quizzes he spent part of his weekend doing, and she tells him that she’ll grade them and give them back  by the end of the day. She also tells him that Jason is temporarily staying with her family at the Pembrooke until _some shady things are resolved_ , but that he should show up to practice later.

Archie is glad. Their big game — Mustangs against their biggest rivals, the Walter Payton Grizzlies — is coming up this Wednesday, and Jason has missed enough practice last week for Coach Clayton to take it out on the whole team.

The team, however, should be confident. The banner hung by the Vixens a couple of weeks ago is still celebrating their undefeated status — except, things might soon change. Jason is definitely going through the Cheryl-slash-his parents’ situation. Moose looks particularly forlorn fumbling at his locker, which reminds Archie of that awkward breakfast and _Kevin_ , who hadn’t answered his texts throughout the weekend and who wasn’t around to catch the bus with him this morning. Reggie is nowhere to be seen, as he usually isn’t on Mondays, and Steve is telling whoever wants to hear that Ginger dumped him.

Archie, who apparently is the person that wants to hear it now, leaning against one of the lockers as they wait for the bell to ring (the teacher released them four minutes early), just nods. In his mind, he wonders what Steve’s reaction would be if he said _and I’m with Veronica._

(He doesn’t want to admit it, but it would probably be some shocked face followed by a _Reggie’s Veronica?!_ that he’s not _nearly_ ready to hear. He’s suddenly very pleased with their decision to keep things on the down low for a while.)

Steve keeps talking even _after_ the bell rings — something about the college party he took Ginger and Tina to, and how college guys have obviously more appeal than high school boys just because they’re, well, in college — and it defeats the whole purpose of being released earlier. Archie doesn’t have it in him to leave him alone, though, because Steve sounds really upset.

By the time the tale is over, and they both walk into the cafeteria to get some lunch, everyone is already at their customary table. It’s packed inside, given the cold weather. Archie spots Veronica before anyone else and notices that her bag is keeping a seat next to her. He fills his tray quickly, hands and feet buzzing with anticipation — they texted throughout Sunday and this morning, too, between classes, but he hadn’t seen her yet.

She’s wearing a dark shade of lipstick, but her lips still stretch into a smile when he approaches the table. “Hey, you,” Archie says, trying to maintain a face that doesn’t scream _hey, I know how your skin tastes_. He’s not sure if he succeeds — it’s something common, though. Everyone knows they only see each other for the first time at lunch, on Mondays.

“Hi,” she says, a much better actress than him, no doubt. She removes her bag, so he can sit by her side — another common thing. They always sit next to each other. It's normal _, usual_.

“Kev, why did you ditch me this morning?” Archie decides to ask to his neighbor who's sitting across from him, as he settles into his place. Kevin doesn’t look as upset as Moose did, and Archie wonders if the reason for that was _Midge_ , then decides to stop before he gets a headache trying to understand how the three of them work.

“Oh, my mom drove me. I would’ve offered you a ride, but we stopped for breakfast before so, you know.” He shrugs, a little apologetic. Archie waves his concern away — he knows that Kevin doesn’t get too many moments with his mom. “But you were spilling the tea, V!”

Archie looks at Veronica with a slight frown. She nudges his feet with hers, under the table. “It’s not _tea_ , Kev,” Betty says, almost as if she’s tired.

“Are you kidding me?” Kevin leans closer to the table, his voice low. “The Blossoms disinheriting their children because they don’t want to do whatever they’re told is _major_ tea.”

“Jason thinks they should get emancipated.” Veronica sighs. She looks so put together, so different from how he’s seen her throughout the weekend. Archie knows she’s still very tired and concerned, even with her game face on. “I don’t know… Maybe they _could_ trust their grandmother. Still, it’s a lot of money to give up just like that, so maybe they’re being nuts.”

“I can’t believe Clifford _hit_ them.” Betty presses her fingertips to her temple. “I mean, I’ll never complain about my parents again.”

“Please, your parents only crime is to be excruciatingly white.” Kevin makes a face. “Poor Cheryl,” he says with a sigh. Archie knows that Kevin doesn’t really _like_ Cheryl, but things had been better between them ever since the Variety Show. “Getting through that while _drugged_ , and then coming back to a car crash…”

“She must have been terrified.” Betty’s voice is very small.

By his side, Veronica winces a little. Everyone’s gaze is distant, and down, their minds wandering through the horrors that Cheryl went through the past few days. Archie keeps his eyes on Veronica, though, on the way her lips curl downwards. Under the table, he searches for her hand on her lap. _We’re in this together_ , he means to silently say. She seems a little startled, by the way she squares her shoulders, but soon her fingers entwine his. _I know_ , is what he thinks she’s answering.

It’s the first time they’ve touched since early morning on Sunday, and it makes him think about the first time he ever touched her hand, the first day of school in the music room when she introduced herself. It’s the same electricity running through him. Veronica shifts a little in her seat, slightly leaning her legs to the side until her knee is resting against his. She’s smiling now — probably unnoticeable to anyone else — and Archie takes in a deep breath.

“Okay!” Kevin says suddenly, slamming both his hands on the table. Archie lets go of Veronica’s hand almost immediately, his face heating up — for a second, he’s sure they’ve been caught, but then Kevin starts talking. “Enough about sad things! My birthday party is on December 8th, and we are going _clubbing_!”

“Oh, no.” Betty drops her head.

“Oh, _yes!_ ” Veronica claps, her eyes suddenly bright with excitement. “I can’t believe I have an excuse to bring Monica out again!”

Archie frowns, making sure both his hands are visible again, just in case. “Who the hell is Monica?”

“Monica Posh, Archiekins! My own _poetic persona._ ” She touches the necklace around her neck, some sort of pearl pendant in a silver chain. “The name on my fake ID,” she explains. Archie chuckles, and then eats something, just so no one notices the silliness in his smile.

“As much as we’d love to see Monica in action since Betty and I weren’t around when she was out and about, this time only Archie here will need a fake ID. We’re going to a club where they allow eighteen-year-olds.”

“Where do I even get a fake ID?” Archie asks, around another mouthful of chips.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll hook you up.” Kevin waves, and then turns to Betty, who’s still looking displeased at the whole birthday set up. “What’s with the face?”

She sighs. “Do you just forget that I’m dating Jughead Jones and that he won’t be caught dead clubbing, or do you just want to see me suffering?”

Kevin laughs, giving Betty a side-hug. “I did forget. Oh, well. Time to break-up.”

 

 

 

 

Archie manages to be alone with Veronica for about ten minutes before going down to practice. They kind of, but not really, agree on it while texting during their last two classes — she sends him a text that he’s sure is only meant to tease him ( ** _can’t stop thinking about kissing you_** ) and next thing he knows, he’s waiting for her at the door of her classroom when the bell rings. Probably no one notices, but he follows her to an empty lab, his chest bubbly with expectancy as he reaches out just one of his fingers to touch her hands.

“Finally.” She whispers as he walks her back, and it’s a full fire when their lips touch. Archie cups her face with his hands, his tongue meeting hers, and they kiss until she’s out of breath and giggling, her arms around his neck.

They only kiss, but it’s more than enough for him to melt from inside out. Veronica wipes her lipstick off his lips, afterwards, promising that she’ll call before going to bed. He goes to practice with the stupidest expression, and not even getting yelled at by Coach Clayton or being paired with Reggie at the drills is enough to dampen his mood.

“Someone looks happy.” It’s the first thing Ms. Baker says to him when she walks into her office. Archie removes the headphones — he’d been listening to the song he sang to Veronica the other day, Nick Wilson’s _Next to Me_ — and smiles. The last time he’d been in Ms. Baker’s presence, Veronica had just sort of dumped him, and he was as whiny as Steve. “Had a good Thanksgiving, sweetie?”

“It was…” he starts, watching her sit down in her yellow chair, removing her shoes as usual. “I’m not sure if I can call it _good_ , because one of my friends was really hurt in an accident, but for _me_ , like, personally, it was.” He smiles. And then he _beams_. “It was so good.”

Ms. Baker mimics his smile, even though hers is soft, motherly. Her socks, today, are white with little pink bows around her ankles. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Archie nods, taking a deep breath. She brews them some tea, listening attentively as Archie starts recounting every moment of the past days: how buying a table for the loft made everything feel more like _home_. The talk he had with his dad about what happened with Geraldine, and how now that he has finally apologized to his parents, he feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, something he didn’t even know he was carrying.

He tells her about Thanksgiving, about talking things through with Veronica, about clearing things up and being with her. And then about Cheryl, how awful it was to see her bleeding but that it awakened some courage he didn’t even know existed inside of him.

“It’s no surprise to me that you’re really brave,” Ms. Baker says. “Not only for helping save your friend, but for staying by Veronica’s side throughout all of this.”

“She’s really tough,” Archie says, chuckling, his hand around the warm mug. “She’s always trying not to cry and she’s always putting a brave face on. I know she hates to be vulnerable, but I — I just really _want_ to, you know, be there for her. _With_ her.”  
  
“I like how that sounds. You _want_ to. It’s your choice. Do you recognize that?” Ms. Baker asks. Archie looks up, his eyebrows traveling towards his hairline. He smiles a little, because she is obviously right. “You know, from what you just said, I can see why you like this girl so much. She’s a lot like you.”  
  
He makes a face. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Tough. Putting on a brave face even if the world is falling apart.” She looks at him that way she does sometimes. Archie remembers being terrified of it at some point, but now he just finds himself listening, connecting the dots inside his mind. He never saw it like that — he always felt like an open book. Felt too much, said too much, his emotions running high all the time, but there’s something about what Ms. Baker just said that sounds incredibly relatable. “Maybe that’s why you connected so easily."

“She’s just…” He sighs. He can’t start talking about Veronica without sounding like a complete fool, but Ms. Baker seems to understand what he means. His smile diminishes as some ugly doubts that he’s been pushing aside come crawling back into his brain. “Do I even deserve this?”  
  
A crease forms between the therapist’s eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“To feel this.” He bites on his lower lip, feeling his cheeks heat up. “To have her. I know you said that there isn’t a right time to move on from everything that happened before, but I am so sure that I’ve never felt like this before. I’m still scared that I’m going to mess everything up. I know I should tell her about— about Geraldine, but—”

“Okay Archie, now, you have to take a deep breath and wait a minute,” Ms. Baker says, so calmly it calms him too. He does as instructed — inhales deeply and exhales slowly — and takes a sip of his lukewarm tea once he’s done. “Archie. What happened before _happened_ , but that’s between you and your past. One day, you’ll be ready to tell Veronica or anyone else for that matter. If it’s not right now, then it’s not right now. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And what happened before doesn’t make you less deserving of anything, sweetie. It only makes you even _more_ deserving of good things, because you got out of it. You are here, strong, standing, and you’re brave enough to move on. That’s something amazing.”

Archie nods, clenching his jaw a little. It hurts, somewhere, to think about what he’s been through and how it still feels like some open wound that needs to heal, but it’s going to, one way or another. “I do have to tell my mom about Veronica, though. I hope she won’t freak out.”

“Why would she freak out?”

He shrugs. “She worries about me. She — I think she wants to protect me. But I don’t want to lie to her, not _again_ , it’s not how this should be.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Ms. Baker sips her tea. “When you do tell her, remind her that this is what you want. That this is your choice. And that you feel strong enough to make it. And you know, Archie? You’re seventeen,” she says, a sweet smile on her lips. “You’re allowed to go and enjoy your first girlfriend."

 

 

 

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~super fast note just to update. I'll be back to talk more and answer your comments!~~
> 
> hey, beautiful people! i'm back with some varchie goodness for you! i know we're all pretty upset with canon right now, so i hope that at least the good place where our babies are at here in LM can be soothing. i just LOVE this phase, their honeymoon phase as I like to call, and I even wrote some unplanned, spontaneous semi-smut here, so... enjoy, I guess?
> 
> this chapter, we see veronica dealing with her trauma a little bit. i was thinking about what ms. baker said and i think that it's true - archie and veronica are both really similar to the way they react to things, putting on a brave face, wanting to face it all alone. don't you think?
> 
> also, if anyone didn't get the marylin monroe chanel n.5 reference! marylin made chanel n.5 famous because she said she only wore five drops of it to bed lol i think it's something veronica would know.
> 
> i hope to see you here and on tumblr. i LOVE your comments and asks in my inbox. thank you nic for being in this journey with me.
> 
> songs in this chapter are "amused" by hunger (amazing tune) and nick wilson's "next to me"!


	29. Chapter 29

_you're always in my head, branding your fire on my lips_

 

 

 

Just a couple of minutes after the bell rings announcing lunch break, Kevin seeks Veronica out as she’s putting her morning textbooks in her locker. “I need your advice,” he says, sounding serious. Veronica frowns.

“Uh. Don’t text him back?” she half-jokes, laughing a little.

Kevin rests his shoulder against the locker beside hers and rolls his eyes. “ _As if_. I’m talking about my party. How do you feel about that place on North Clark Street?”

“Oh, _Smartbar_?! It’s great!” She beams, excited, and closes her locker. “Last year, Cheryl and I would go there all the time. I mean, Sherry and Monica would go there all the time.”

“How on Earth did Cheryl get away with a fake ID where she’s called _Sherry_?” Kevin asks, falling into step with her as they start walking towards the cafeteria. Veronica giggles, and then shrugs. She can’t wait for Cheryl to feel better, so they can go out together again, wearing sequined tops and tossing their hair around on the dancefloor. “I was in doubt between this one and _Berlin_ , but let’s face it. Those pole dances are quite tragic.”

Veronica links her arm with Kevin’s. “I think we’ll be good at the Smartbar. Jughead is already frightened enough without the pole dances.”

“My plan is getting him so drunk that he’ll actually _want_ the pole dances,” Kevin says, wiggling his eyebrows. Veronica laughs out loud. “Seriously, though. I was thinking about pre-gaming at my place? My dad has a late shift…”

“Excellent idea. I’m thinking _Cosmos_.”

“Pink. Sophisticated.” Kevin considers it and then nods in approval. “Gay enough. I’ll buy the ingredients.”

“I’ll bring the Martini glasses! How many?”

“I _will_ invite Bughead to join us, but to be honest, I think it’s just going to be you, me, Archie, and Moose.”

Veronica’s eyebrows travel towards her hairline. “Moose?” she asks. Even though she knows that Kevin and Moose Mason share a fair number of classes together and are lab partners, it’s always been slightly surprising to her how _close_ they’ve become lately. But it’s the way that Kevin nods, completely nonchalant, that makes her narrow her eyes. “Kev. You know that Moose has a girlfriend, right?”

“Oh, yeah, but she’s not going,” Kevin says. Veronica keeps looking at him, trying to figure out if he’s a very good liar or if he’s just not lying at all, when he pulls her arm towards their usual lunch table. His face quickly goes from neutral to bright when he spots their friends. “Happy Tuesday! What are we talking about?”

Veronica forgets about Kevin for a second when she spots Archie. They’ve seen each other already today, before classes had even started — in fact, they both got to school thirty minutes early so they could steal a minute (or twenty-five) together in the school gardens — but seeing him always feels like the first time, somehow. It always fills her stomach with so-called _butterflies_.

He notices her too, glancing up at her face as he chews on his sandwich, a movement that slows down once their eyes meet. She feels her face warm up for no reason at all.

“—college applications,” Ginger says. Finally paying attention to everyone else at the table, Veronica realizes that Val and Ginger have joined Betty and Archie for lunch, apparently, and while Val is sitting next to Betty, Ginger chose _her_ spot next to Archie to sit at. “Val sent hers to Julliard last week!”

“And I should hear back from Columbia at any time now,” Betty ironically sing-songs, repressing a sigh.

Kevin sits next to her, on the other side of his usual spot. “I’m thinking of applying to Columbia as well. Can you imagine? We could be roomies!” He gives Betty a side hug, excited.

“Except she’ll be sharing a place with her _beau_ somewhere between Columbia and NYU. Oh, excuse me.” Veronica, without a care in the world, sits right between Ginger and Archie, making the other Vixen move a little to the right. “Right, B?”

“Maybe.” Betty fumbles with the food on her tray, but she’s not eating anything. “I mean, it would be great if Jug went to NYU. It would also be great if you got in with me, Kev, but you know that only one person _at most_ gets into Columbia every year…” she trails off.

Kevin furrows his eyebrows, clearly surprised by Betty’s pointed comment. Everyone seems to be really interested in their own food, for a second. Veronica glances at Archie, whose expression is mimicking Kevin’s, and then stares back at her best friend, feeling the urge to _kick_ her beneath the table. _Unbelievable_.

“Well. You two will be the first breaking this pattern!” Valerie interjects, _finally_ breaking the ice, a pretty smile on her pretty face. Kevin shrugs, rolling his eyes _just a little bit_ as he drinks some water.

“What about you, Arch?” Ginger leans a little over the table so she can look at Archie even with Veronica sitting right between them. “Where are you applying to?”

Veronica needs to control her face and prevent her eyes from narrowing as she notices the glossed smile Ginger is offering him. Didn’t she _just_ break up with Steve?

Archie opens his mouth to answer, but what comes out is Betty’s voice from the other side of the table. “Arch is going to retake his SATs this weekend.”

Archie’s mouth closes again, and Veronica realizes that he clenches his jaw. The shade of the skin right above his cheekbones becomes redder, and she _could_ kick Betty for real now, but instead, she just nudges Archie’s knee with hers, the least visible sign of support she can show him.

“Oh, cool!” Val says. “My brother took them for the first time in December, too, and he did just fine.”

“Trev! He did just fine, indeed. Remember, Betty?” Kevin asks pointedly.

They chuckle. Everyone at the table, except for Archie, remembers when Betty dated Val’s brother, once upon a time. Betty’s pink face is obviously Kevin’s small personal vendetta against her innocent comment about Columbia.

Veronica nudges Archie’s leg again, but he’s clearly still uncomfortable with the conversation topic, his eyes darting around the cafeteria.

“What about you, V?” Ginger offers her the very same smile. Veronica feels bad and even a little anti-feminist for automatically assuming that she had any sort of ulterior motives with her amiability towards Archie. “Did you apply anywhere?”

Veronica takes a deep breath and bites her lip. “Not yet, but—”

“Are your parents still shipping you off to Yale?” Kevin asks.

Archie seems to have found something more interesting than their subject, because he suddenly clears his throat and starts getting up, not really looking at anyone at the table. “Look! It’s Jason!” Archie says. They all follow his gaze, and, in fact, Jason Blossom just walked into the cafeteria. Everyone around them seems to have noticed Jason’s presence too — Veronica knows that the rumors about Cheryl’s accident have spread like wildfire. “I’ll go check on him.”

 

 

 

 

After Archie leaves, Veronica answers her friends, but then kind of zones out of the conversation, discreetly watching as he sits down with Jason and Moose, a couple of tables away, the three of them wearing their Mustang jackets while they talk. Well, mostly Jason talks. He looks drained and pale — which is understandable since he’s basically moved into the hospital ever since everything went down. 

Before the bell rings announcing second-period, Veronica excuses herself from the table (just as Ginger is confirming that she had, in fact, broken up with Steve during Thanksgiving break) and runs to try to catch Archie, who exited the cafeteria a few moments ago.

She finds him by his locker. The maroon of his letterman jacket matches nicely with his hair, and she loves knowing that underneath his layers of clothing, you can still find a bruise or two that she made with her teeth during the weekend — but she doesn't love the look on his face right now, furrowed brows and clenched jaw, as he scours through the mess of papers and books.

“Hey,” she greets, adjusting her bag to one shoulder as she leans the other against the metal. Archie quickly glances at her, and she notices that he schools his expression into something more neutral before looking away again. “Are you okay? You bolted.”

She stares at his profile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, no real warmth in his voice. Veronica knits her eyebrows together. _Definitely not fine_. “Just wanted to catch up with J.”

“How is he?”

It’s not really what she wants to ask, but it’s what comes out.

“Clearly not in the mood for a game,” he says, amidst a frustrated sigh. He’s gathered all his things, and when there aren’t any excuses left for him to avoid looking at her anymore, he finally does, closing his locker and leaning against its door to face her. Veronica notices his bitter demeanor. “Are your parents shipping you off to Yale?”

Veronica bites the inside of her lip. There isn’t an accusatory tone in what he asks, but the way his eyes are downcast makes her heart constrict. “If the arranged marriage with a millionaire doesn’t work,” she tries, some chirpiness in her voice. Maybe joking about it will make him feel better.

He does crack the smallest of smiles, but it isn’t a real one. “Good thing I don’t stand a chance either way.”

Veronica tilts her head, opening her mouth, but before she can speak, they’re interrupted (or saved) by the bell. “I’ll see you later?” she tries. They have classes in opposite directions now, and he’s already starting to back away.

He nods. “I’m going to the gym after school, so I’ll text you when I’m home.”

“Sure.” Veronica bites her lip as she watches him turn around and leave. Of course, she joked about it too soon and made it even worse. She heaves out a frustrated sigh. She was planning on visiting Cheryl after class, but it will have to wait.

 

 

 

 

Archie is the only one at the gym that afternoon. Outside, the snow is falling heavily. 

A day that started with potential — Veronica pressing him against the brick wall in the school gardens, her tiny gloved hands under his shirt, searching for the warmth of his skin, her laugh on the crook of his neck — ended up being such a bummer.

The conversation during lunch was a painful, excruciating reminder that everyone had their lives figured out while he was still taking the first step. And now, thanks to Betty, everyone knew about it as well. He didn’t mind talking about it with his friends, but Val and Ginger were just mostly _there_. Of course, they will probably tell everyone that poor _new guy_ Archie Andrews is just _now_ first taking his SATs.

(and probably failing them too, if _Buzzkill Betty_ had anything to say about it when she gave him one of his last quizzes back.)

Betty’s probably getting into Columbia. Kevin too and, even if he doesn’t, he’s smart enough to get into a good college. And Veronica, _well_. She’s more than likely going to an Ivy, Yale or not, and even if he could meet her brains, he’d never meet her social status.

And now, he’s lifting weights, and thinking only about that. Clean and press. With his feet apart, he grasps the bar and lifts it off the floor. When it gets pass his knees, he jumps and shrugs the bar so he can catch it at shoulder level. Bracing his abs, he stands tall and presses the bar straight overhead.

It’s consuming. He feels his arm and back muscles burning, beads of sweat falling down his temples. He holds it above his head as long as he can. Exhaling, he finally puts the bar back on the ground, a loud _thump_ when he does it.

Archie bends to grasp the bar again. It’s way heavier than before, but he _should_ push himself a little further. It’s how people get stronger. His arms hurt a lot when he first lifts the bar off the floor. The disaster _almost_ happens — his hands are burning, and he can’t seem to shrug the bar properly. He lets the bar fall on the floor before he ends up causing an accident.

Archie heaves out a breath, defeated and exhausted. He grabs his bottle of water and sits down on a bench press. His plan is to take a small break and try again, right before he can start _thinking_.

“Archie?”

All of his plans go down the drain when he looks up and sees that Veronica is standing at the gym door, some books in her hand and a purple scarf around her neck. He inhales deeply. She doesn’t really _belong_ in the gym, not with her high heels and make-up. Not when she looks perfect and he’s just a mess.

“Ronnie,” he says, letting a sigh out. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I got some books from the school’s library to take to Cheryl. Figured she could use the distraction.” She walks in, hesitating. Archie creases his eyebrows together. “I was also hoping to catch you here,” she confesses, lips curling upwards.

Archie’s face is warm from the workout, but he thinks it’s not only because of that. There’s a stupid part of him that wants to shut her out, to tell her that he’s got a big game tomorrow, that he needs to be in shape for that, but — _but._

It’s Veronica. And she’s walking towards him so carefully, like she’s scared of stepping on the wrong spot on the floor. He watches, silently, as she puts her books and her bag down on one of the pieces of equipment, her hair falling from behind her ear as she moves. He knows that this is _safe_ , and he lets her come closer.

She sits on a pec deck machine that’s facing his bench press, crossing her legs and tucking her hair behind her ear again. Archie swallows hard. “Was I an ass to you earlier?” he asks, bluntly. It’s something that’s been on his mind ever since.

Veronica chuckles, her big brown eyes on him. “No,” she says, and he nods. He believes her, but the change in her expression to something more serious tells him that there’s more. “Archie… Can we _talk_?” she asks, a crease between her eyebrows. “About all that?”

He lifts up one shoulder in a shrug, pursing his lips as he nods, uncertain. He can see that she’s a little unsure, too, maybe trying to weigh her words before she starts speaking. And, as much as he does _not_ want to talk about the subject that she’s undoubtedly bringing to table, he also doesn’t want things to be like this — _reluctant_ — between them. So, he swallows hard again, maybe swallowing his pride this time. “I didn’t mean to bolt like that. It’s just…”

“The whole talk was getting you anxious,” Veronica affirms. Archie feels his cheeks heat up even more but nods his head in agreement. “I know. Betty can be a lot when it comes to school stuff. You’ve seen how she acted with Kev. College, Columbia… It’s always been the most important thing to her.”

“Yeah. And she’s right. I mean, she’s right to be focused on her future. I just… She’s helped me a lot, so far. I’m not upset.” He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, messing it up a little. “I just wish she hadn’t told everyone that I kinda suck at focusing on mine.”

He feels his gaze wander until Veronica slowly reaches out a hand, taking his. It brings back his attention, and he looks up at her, her thumb gently stroking his. “You know, there’s no shame in taking the SATs for the first time now, right? You’re not the first, and you’re not going to be the last.”

“I know.” Archie holds her hand in his. “I’m— it’s not the first time I’m taking them, though, Ronnie,” he confesses. She nods, sympathetic, although the crease between her eyebrows is still there. “I took them last year, and I _really_ blew them. But even if I hadn’t, my grades were _so_ bad. I was just… all over the place.”

“But you’re doing so much better now, Archie. You never really missed any tutoring sessions. You’re always helping your partners on projects. I know you always do your homework, and you’ve spent _countless_ weekends at home studying, like a big nerd.” She smiles. It’s so warm — Archie feels his heart thawing inside his chest. “You changed your whole life this year. Have you ever… stopped to think about that?”

Archie remembers late-August, coming to Chicago, a shattered _body_ and a heart in even worse condition. He remembers putting it back together, piece by piece, with the help of his friends, his family, and Ms. Baker. Remembers wanting Veronica’s hand in his, just like it is now, throughout the whole path. “Sometimes.” He gives her a small smile too. “I just… It’s not that I feel _ashamed_. I mean, I am proud of starting over.” He ponders it, knitting his eyebrows together. “I think I just feel _scared_. That I won’t keep up, you know? That you guys will all be at amazing places and that I’ll just be stuck.”

Veronica takes a deep breath. “I’m going against my parents' _design_ ,” she confesses, nibbling on her lower lip. “I don’t want to go to Yale. I never did. I don’t even know if I want to go to business school one day, or if I want anything to do with our _empire_. And sometimes, when you have everything mapped out for you, taking a risk and _not_ the laid out plan is… Scary, too.”

She gives him the smile that doesn’t really reach her eyes, the one that makes him want to do _anything_ to get her smiling for real. He knows it always takes a lot for her to be vulnerable, and he also knows that she’s just telling him that because she wants him to be vulnerable, too. Because she wants him to trust her.

“And I know it sounds _stupid_ ,” she goes on before he can say anything. “But what if I don’t get into Harvard? What if the plans _I’m_ making don’t follow through and I’m… stuck, too. Like you said.”

Their eyes meet. There has always been an understanding between them, even if their _lives_ and struggles have always been so completely different. But Archie supposes that they are similar in some ways, just like Ms. Baker mentioned in their session yesterday. _Putting on a brave face even if the world is falling apart._ Archie smiles softly, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Harvard, uh? Boston?”

She heaves out a breath, her cheeks slightly pinker than usual. “Yeah.” He notices her biting the inside of her lower lip. And then, she slides a little closer to the edge of the pec deck bench, letting go of his hand and swinging her arms around his neck, a real smile on her berry lips. “You know what’s great about Boston?”

“What?” Archie smiles too, placing one of his hands on top of her knee.

“There are a lot of great schools there that I _bet_ would love to have _you_ and your strong jawline,” she says, and it makes him laugh. He doesn’t really want to read too much into what she just said, but he _knows_ what it could mean. That maybe she can see him in the future she’s planning for herself. “If that’s something you’d consider.”

Archie nods, the smile still on his lips. He wants to tell her that there is no way he can ever invision his life or his future without her. He wants to tell her that he’d cross oceans if she asked him. He wants to tell her _everything_ — how he got here, what happened to him, which demons he had to fight, whose actions he had to overcome. But there’ll be time for that. Right now, he just wants to _nail_ this goddamn test, so he can make her (and himself) proud. “I’ll think about it,” he says, leaning in closer so he can kiss her.

“Uh, uh,” she gives him the quickest of pecks but then pulls away. “I’d kiss you, but you’re sweaty,” she says, making an apologetic, yet repulsed, face. Archie rolls his eyes, but laughs. He probably does smell bad. Veronica giggles, getting up and smoothing down her skirt, starting to gather her things. “See you tomorrow?”

“Me and my strong jawline,” he teases, watching as she picks up her backpack and her books. It’s her turn to roll her eyes and laugh.

“You and your emo soul,” she responds, blowing him a kiss before leaving.

Archie watches the door when she walks out of it. He used to think that Veronica was going to be his downfall — and he might not be wrong — but the truth is that no one else has ever lifted him up like she does.

 

 

 

 

“Thank you for the books, V.”  
  
Veronica bites her lip, watching as the brush slides through the red strands of Cheryl’s beautiful hair. She is finally able to sit upright today, even if not for long. Thankfully, the concussion didn’t leave any real damage, so the nurses decided to wash her hair for the first time since the accident. When Veronica arrived — a little later than usual — they were already blow-drying it. Polly, who was there with Jason earlier in the day, brought Cheryl a bottle of John Frieda shampoo. Veronica could finally smell it, then, the familiar scent of Cheryl’s hair taking over the sterile smell of that horrible place.  
  
She offered to brush it, maybe braid it so it wouldn’t get tangled against the pillowcase, since Cheryl still needed to spend most of her time lying down. It’s nice — to actively do something to help. To take in that scent again. To spend time with Cheryl, who is alive, while snow falls down outside.  
  
“I’ll bring more after you’re done. There’s only so much TV a girl can watch.”

“ _Please._ I think I’ve watched seven seasons of _Property Brothers_ by now. You can call me if you need me to renovate your plumbing.”

Veronica giggles, setting the brush down. “We’re supposed to be reading _Wuthering Heights_ now, and then we’re moving to _Faust_. I think Mr. Turner is turned on by destructive, all-consuming passion.”

Cheryl sighs, carefully examining the book’s cover. It’s an old, classic copy, different from the one Veronica has at home. “Maybe he’s turned on by sad boys.”

“Oh, well.” Veronica sighs. Her mind races back to an hour ago, when she was still at school, giving it _all_ to wipe the misery off of Archie’s face and see him smiling back at her like he meant it. She divides Cheryl’s hair into three equal parts, a small smile playing on her lips. “Aren’t we all?”

There’s a slight rise in Cheryl’s heartbeat that’s still being monitored, but it only lasts a few seconds. “Debatable,” she says, fingers tracing the golden, embossed letters of the title. Veronica instantly feels guilty — she’s not sure she should be mentioning _boys_ to Cheryl since one slipped a drug into her drink and unchained a series of events that led her to this very hospital bed. She opens her mouth to apologize, but Cheryl beats her to the punch. “Talking about sad boys… Mustangs against the Grizzlies, tomorrow?”

 _Oh._ “Yep. But they should get this one. They’ve been playing like no one else,” she says, focusing on braiding  Cheryl's hair. Veronica wishes Cheryl could be there to cheer at the game with her and the other Vixens, but she doesn’t say anything — who knows when she’ll be able to be back on the cheer squad. “Archie told me Jason isn’t too thrilled?”

Cheryl heaves out a breath. “He’s kind of pissed that Coach Clayton _demands_ his presence, given the situation, but he’s being ridiculous. Yes, I’ve been better, but I’m _fine_. He doesn’t need to be here all day, every day.”

Veronica bites her lip again — the dream she had the other day comes back to her mind: Cheryl’s lifeless body stuck in a car, the monstrous face on her father’s body telling her that they were all bleeding. Just like Jason, she’s been at the hospital every, single day ever since the accident. A part of her — the part that’s still, somehow, tip-toeing around Cheryl — wonders if that’s a _message_ for her too. “He’s just worried about you, Cher,” Veronica says carefully, wrapping a hair tie around the end of the braid. “We all are. The girls want to come by this weekend, and… ”

Cheryl looks over her shoulder, frowning in the face of Veronica’s hesitation. “And…?”

“Betty wants to see you too. If you'll let her to come,” Veronica says, softly. It’s been a long, long time since Cheryl and Betty were even _civil_ to each other, but maybe being drugged while abroad and surviving a car-crash will have some impact. Everything was so _fragile_ , and the three of them shouldn’t spend the rest of their lives walking on eggshells around each other. But Cheryl doesn’t answer immediately, her expression pinching, and Veronica decides to test other waters. “I think Archie is also visiting. He’s just caught up on the SATs right now, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

Cheryl looks very tired, all of a sudden. “I heard he helped a lot.”

“He was wonderful.” Veronica smiles _just a little bit_ , thinking about Archie again — the hard lines of his face and body, and how they all softened when he laughed. She thinks about how he held her hand throughout the night when they were together in the waiting room, thinks about the taste of his kiss this morning, strawberry from the gum he _swears_ he wasn’t chewing.

She wishes she could tell Cheryl. She wishes she could tell _someone_ how that boy filled her with _something_ , but she’s also so glad that they decided against it. Call her selfish, but Archie is her favorite secret, the one thing that’s just _hers_ now. The one thing no one can ruin.

Cheryl’s expression is forlorn when she nods. She moves slowly, pulling the end of the braid over her shoulder before laying down again, her back against the elevated headboard. Veronica helps adjust the pillow beneath her head, bringing it down so it supports her neck, too. “The doctors warned me that I would get tired quickly.”

Veronica touches her face for a moment. “Do you want me to call someone?”

“I just need to rest a little bit.”

“Okay.” Veronica sits in the armchair next to the bed. She fishes her phone out of her purse, out of habit. There are some new messages in the group chat and also a few from Archie. She clears the notifications, taking a deep breath. “Do you want me to read you something?”

“I don’t think _Wolfgang von Goethe_ is going to help me right now,” she says, a sad smile on her pale lips. Veronica misses the shade of her red lipstick.

“Fuck Goethe,” she shrugs, making Cheryl’s smile grow a little, despite the drowsiness. “I’m going to read our horoscopes.” She lifts an eyebrow, and opens the browser on her phone, searching for some random astrology page. Cheryl laughs, just a little bit. She takes Cheryl’s hand and starts reading predictions. She barely trusts the accuracy of these things, but the Leo section says that _everything is about to change soon_ — and that is a good thing to believe in.

 

 

 

 

Her parents are home when she comes back from the hospital, her limbs freezing from the cold outside. Hiram, who is sitting on the couch by the fireplace as he reads a book and drinks some rum, barely lifts his head to acknowledge her presence. He hasn’t talked to her ever since they got back from New York, not a word, and as much as Veronica wants to roll her eyes and be _grateful_ that she isn’t getting scolded, the silent treatment cuts like a knife.

Hermione has been _kinder_ ever since yesterday morning. She asks if Veronica has had dinner, and how Cheryl is doing — it’s all very manicured, and Veronica hates it. Still, she sits at the dining room table to complete her homework and retreats to her room at a reasonable hour, like some good girl she has never pretended to be.

She takes a hot shower first, careful not to wet her hair. She moisturizes her whole body, as usual, paying extra attention to her elbows and knees, and puts on burgundy, satin pajamas. Veronica lies in bed, only her night lamp on, and continues to read _Wuthering Heights._ Her eyelids are getting heavy when her phone lights up, a quick vibration on her mattress.

 ** _leaving me on read?_** says the text from Archie, followed by a winky face poking its tongue out. Veronica smiles to herself.

 ** _sorry! i got distracted with cheryl at the hospital, then homework_** _,_ she honestly replies, sinking under her duvet.

 ** _how is she?_** Archie asks, and Veronica is about to answer when she notices the three little dots signaling that he’s typing some more. **_and how are u?_** he adds.

Veronica smiles softly. **_she’s getting better_** _,_ she sends, holding back a yawn. **_i’m tired. already in bed. you?_**

 ** _about to sleep too,_** he says, adding a horse and a basketball emoji. Veronica pictures him in his room, the big window by his bed providing all the needed light, covered by his duvet from waist down, the phone illuminating his face. **_can’t wait for tomorrow_** _._

**_the game?_ **

**_no,_** Archie answers. Veronica frowns a little and waits for him to go on. **_you._**

She feels her heart beating a little faster and bites her lower lip, suddenly not so sleepy anymore. She automatically sends him a purple heart emoji, followed quickly by, **_when can we meet?_**

**_post-lab? tho u have that test…_ **

Veronica winces. **_ugh, yes. it's a long day tomorrow. any plans post-game?_**

**_...you?_ **

She smiles, feeling her legs a little uneasy under the duvet. **_okay_** , she sends, her heart beating _a lot_ faster now, feeling somewhat flushed.

**_see you tomorrow then, ronnie._ **

Quickly wetting her lips, Veronica writes a goodnight message before deleting it. **_can't believe i'll only kiss you in the evening_** , she sends, a bit embarrassed and excited at the same time. She watches expectantly as Archie types and types — she knows that she usually isn’t _so_ verbal about how he makes her feel, and that it almost always catches him off guard, but it’s a power that she sometimes enjoys having.

Archie takes a beat to answer. A shrug emoji comes first, followed by **_should’ve kissed me back at the gym_**. She bites her lips hard, suddenly feeling _really_ stupid for _not_ kissing him earlier on, despite the fact that he was drenched in salty sweat. It’s that newfound boldness that gets to her as she takes a deep breath. **_night, babe_** _._

 ** _goodnight,_** she writes back, getting a blue heart as a quick reply. Veronica sets her alarm for early in the morning, connects her phone to the charger, and turns off her lamp.

She was so sleepy when the conversation started — especially because the hospital and her parents had the power of _draining_ her — but, as usual, Archie managed to fill her with energy, images of their previous meetings flooding her mind. The room feels a little warm, and then _too_ warm, as she slides her legs together, suddenly wide awake. She turns onto her back and slips a hand into her underwear. It’s not the first time she thinks about Archie in the darkness of her room, but it’s the first time she _allows_ herself to do so, murmuring his name into the expensive cotton of her sheets. 

 

 

 

 

The game starts just as every other game. The Pussycats sing a cover of Taylor Swift’s _Shake it Off,_ and Adam Chrisholm, dressed as the Mustangs mascot, dances with the cheerleaders to entertain the crowd. The gym is packed with students from both schools, as well as other schools, and their families. The Mustangs against the Grizzlies games are apparently a Chicago classic in high school, varsity basketball.

The game starts just as every other game. The head cheerleader, who is Veronica since Cheryl is absent, screams _Go Mustangs!_ before the ref blows his whistle, and Archie focuses only on the ball moving across the court. Jason loses the ball after a couple of seconds, and Moose runs to the other side, trying to steal it from a giant Grizzly player.

The game does _not_ go on just as every other game. It becomes clear, after a minute or two, that the Mustangs are not finding their groove, even though they were just _fine_ during practice, that very afternoon. Moose and Steve are _helpless_. Jason can’t seem to _concentrate,_ and the other team keeps stealing the ball from him. Archie runs everywhere, tries to cover as much court as he can — and silently agrees with Reggie Fucking Mantle that they’re the only ones _doing_ something — but two players out of five just aren’t enough.

_Go Grizzlies!_

For the first time, Archie can hear the cheerleaders from the rival team scream louder than the Vixens. He glances at the scoreboard, wiping the sweat off his face. They’re down. They’ve been down since the first minute, and now that Reggie has taken a new approach and started _yelling_ at the other three, they’re finally within five points.

“Andrews!” Reggie calls as he’s covered by two Grizzlies, passing Archie the ball. There are seven seconds left. With Reggie’s last basket, they’ve managed to get within three points, but from where Archie’s standing, he’d only make a two-pointer. Reggie can’t seem to move past the defense, and time’s running out.

He has no choice but to pass the ball to Jason, who’s behind the three-point arc. Archie runs, asking for Jason to toss the ball back as he re-positions himself, but the _son of a bitch_ just shoots it.

And, of course, _misses_ it, just as the buzzer goes off.

Archie stops with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He watches as Reggie takes his hands to his head, pulling his own hair, outraged and surprised at the same time. It’s over. They lost the game. The undefeated Mustangs had been defeated by their biggest rivals, who are jumping and screaming around.  
  
“I was inside the arc,” Archie feels compelled to explain when Reggie comes relatively closer, his black hair sticking up. “I asked him to give it b—”  
  
“I know. Fucking Jason. Also, what the hell happened to these two?” Reggie points towards Steve and Moose with his chin and then shakes his head, disapproving.

Archie thinks Ginger and Midge _, or Kevin_ , but just shakes his head too. Jason is begrudgingly shaking the other captain’s hand, and Coach Clayton says he’ll be waiting for the team in the locker room — probably to yell that they’re all disappointments.

 

 

 

 

The locker room is silent, and the frustration is palpable. Coach Clayton says a lot while he stands in front of the team with his arms crossed, heaving out unsatisfied sighs every thirty-seconds. Moose is the first one to apologize for his bad performance, but all he gets is _“I don’t wanna hear excuses, Marmaduke,”_ which ends up setting Jason off — he gets up suddenly and leaves the room without looking back, slamming the door on his way out. 

Archie automatically furrows his eyebrows and finds himself exchanging a look with Reggie, half-concerned. Reggie, however, makes a face that proves he’s more fed up than anything else, slightly rolling his eyes. Archie breathes out and waits patiently for Coach Clayton to stop scolding them, so he can shower in peace and meet Veronica like they had agreed on.

Coach Clayton only stops when Reggie stands up, jaw set with determination, and reassures him that they’ll nail the away game happening in two weeks, reaching out a hand. Archie follows his lead, and so do Steve and Moose. The four of them place their hands one on top of the other, and the rest of the team join them too.

“C’mon, Mustangs on three,” Reggie says.

“1, 2, 3,” Moose counts.

“Mustangs!” the players say in unison, their hands together. Coach Clayton seems fairly pleased with the sudden teamwork, even if still upset, and tells them they’re free to hit the showers.

Archie is the last one to get in, just so he can be the last one to get out and avoid small-talk with any of his teammates. It’s not _such_ a big deal, losing one game, but he really did give everything he's got and not having any support except for Reggie Mantle was a little maddening. So, he takes a particularly long shower, and waits until the locker room is silent to get dressed.

Archie puts on blue jeans and a grey T-shirt and dries his hair with a towel until it’s only somewhat damp, enjoying the quietness since everybody left. He’s sitting on a bench, putting on his sneakers, when a noise by the door catches his attention. He looks up to see Veronica, still in her Vixen uniform, poking her head into the locker room.

He half-frowns, half-smiles. “Hey. Come in. It’s just me.”

“So, I see,” she says, entering the room and closing the door behind her. “You were taking forever in here, so I thought I’d check if you were getting some locker room action without me,” Veronica jokes, coming closer to where he’s sitting. Archie chuckles, reaching out a hand to take hers. They’ve seen each a lot other throughout the day, but it’s their first moment _alone_ ever since the gym, yesterday. “You okay?”

Archie shrugs, linking his fingers with hers, noticing how her nail polish matches the exact shade of burgundy on her uniform. “Yeah. I don’t think Jason is, though.” He pulls her by the hand, a little closer to him, until she’s standing between his legs. “Sorry you had to cheer for a loser.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” She smiles with her berry lipstick, hair out of her face given the ponytail she’s wearing. She lets go of his hand, placing both of hers on his shoulders. Archie’s hands fall to her waist immediately. “I started cheering for the Grizzlies half-way through the game.”

“Good call.” Archie laughs a little. Veronica isn’t wearing heels, and she’s so tiny that his head is _just_ beneath her chin even though he’s sitting down and she’s standing up. Archie strokes her waist with his thumbs, just touching the small strip of bare skin between her pleated skirt and her long-sleeve white and burgundy top. “Where are we going? Do you wanna grab dinner or something?”

“Hm, maybe,” she says and then places her hand under his chin, lifting his face up. “This first,” she mutters, leaning in to kiss him, _finally_. Archie feels his chest bloom with warmth when he traps her lower lip between his, closing his eyes and heaving out a pleased sigh. They haven’t kissed properly since yesterday morning, and somehow it feels like a thousand years.

Archie pulls her closer, wrapping her body in his arms. She opens her mouth against his, her tongue finding his with ease. She makes a low sound in her throat, and he thinks he can _feel it_ , her body melting into his embrace as she runs her hands through his hair, kissing him deeper and deeper. Veronica shifts the position of her legs so she can straddle his lap, steeling herself with her hands on his shoulders.

He sucks slightly on her lower lip to break the kiss, trying to catch his breath. He opens his eyes, searching hers, and she’s smiling so close to his face. He rests his palms on her hips, backing up a little and allowing his gaze to move down her body. Her toned, golden legs parted with his thighs between them; the skin disappearing beneath the short cheerleading skirt; her chest almost against his; her lipstick a little smudged, expecting another kiss. _Wow._

“Wow,” he says out loud, looking up again.

“What?” Veronica asks in a low voice, still smiling, smoothing both hands down and over his chest.

“Just…” He swallows hard, digging his fingers into her hips. “You. In this uniform,” he confesses, his face suddenly on fire, “on top of me, like this. I—”

He barely has time to think of how he’d continue that sentence or if he’d admit to her his wildest dreams, because Veronica kisses him again, almost with a bit of ferocity. She rolls her hips against his, and he responds by cupping her ass to bring her closer. He has a sudden urge to stand up and press her against a locker to enhance the friction, but Veronica abandons his mouth to kiss down his neck, making a rough noise come out of his throat when she scratches his skin with her teeth.

She reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it up until it’s off his body. Her mouth is immediately back to his neck, and Archie runs a hand up her body until it’s under her top. There’s a tight sports bra beneath her top, and it’s not so easy to get past it. So, he cups her breast over the fabric.

Veronica kisses his collarbone, one of her hands still bracing herself on his shoulder, the other feeling up his chest, pressing her palm against one of his nipples. Archie groans and searches for her mouth, kissing her again. He pulls her top up, and she raises her arms so it can slide off. The sports bra isn’t like the lacy black bra she was wearing during their first time — it doesn’t show off the perfect curves of her breasts or give him much access, but now there’s more skin against his. She’s just _so hot_ — it’s unbelievable.

“Do you think about this a lot?” she asks, sounding out of breath as she reaches between them to unbutton his jeans. Archie licks his lips, watching as her fingers pull the zipper downward. “Before?” She strokes him over his boxers, and he just kisses her again instead of answering, his hands all over her.

 _Fuck._ The way she’s touching him it’s from another world. “Before. And now,” he mumbles against her mouth, sucking in some air through his teeth when she presses a little firmer. “I just think about you all the time.”

Veronica smiles against his lips, pleased, freeing him from his boxers and taking him in her small hand. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to control himself _just_ a little bit, but then she stops touching him and gets up from his lap. Archie opens his eyes, confused for a fraction of a second until he realizes that she’s dropping to her knees in front of him.

“Ronnie.” He says, almost hoarsely, but there’s no time to even think about saying _you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to_ because she’s suddenly taking him into her mouth. Archie can only moan loudly.

He instinctively closes his eyes, getting lost in the sensation of her hot, wet mouth wrapped tight around him and her hand covering what’s left. This is the first time _this_ has happened to him — it’s the first time someone gives him a blowjob. It’s overwhelming and _so awesome_ , but it’s even better because it’s _Veronica_ doing it, looking up at him with her doll eyes and thick eyelashes.

Archie feels his stomach tremble when they lock eyes. He wants to touch her too. He wants her body back against his, but he also just— this is just too good. She stops for a second, her breath ragged, and she reaches for her ponytail, pulling the hair tie and letting the black waves fall around her face. Archie swallows hard, unable to _stop watching_ as she takes him again, her tongue following the length of his erection from the base to the very edge.

Veronica swirls her tongue, and Archie automatically slips his hands into her hair, lightly pressing his fingertips against her scalp. It doesn’t take long at all until his thighs start to tremble. “Ronnie,” he breathes out, sounding helpless, “I’m— _fuck_ , if you go on, I’m—”

“I want it,” she says, her voice sounding like something downright out of a dream, working her mouth on him again. Archie immediately feels his stomach go stiff and says her name in a cry when he comes, his hands in her hair pulling just a little bit.

She runs her tongue along her lips as he tries to catch his breath, quivers all over his body. She puts him back in his underwear, straightening herself, and Archie can’t help but pull her into a deep kiss, one hand behind the back of her neck. She tastes like herself and him, and his heart is beating so hard it almost hurts. “You’re amazing,” he whispers against her now bare mouth. “What did I even do to deserve that?”

Veronica sits on his lap with both legs to one side. Archie lightly kisses her shoulder, and a little up the column of her neck. “You’re having a bad week.” She giggles.

“Are you kidding?” He pulls away to look at her, a crease between his eyebrows. “This is the best week of my life.”

She laughs. Of course, she thinks he means what just happened, and _yes_ , but— this is the first week they’ve been together. The first week he can actually kiss her, and touch her, and _have_ her. Losing the game wasn’t cool, and neither is knowing that the SATs are this Saturday, but all of this is just meaningless when he can feel her so near.

Veronica kisses him softly. “Come on, Archiekins. We’ve played with danger long enough,” she says, getting up and reaching to grab her top. He suddenly remembers that they’re still at school, still in the locker room. He watches as she gets dressed. “And you were talking about dinner.”

 

 

 

 

**_good luck today. you’ve got this!_ ** ****

The string of purple hearts punctuating Veronica’s text reminds him that she believes in him. His parents believe in him. Ms. Baker, his friends — they all texted, wishing him good luck. They’re all here with him. And he’s obviously not the only senior taking the test — it’s good to recognize some familiar faces, like the coach’s son, Chuck Clayton, and Tina Patel from the cheerleading squad.

The proctor asks them to turn their electronic devices off and store them under the table. He does as instructed and takes a deep breath.

Archie feels the courage growing inside him. _Flourishing,_ that’s the word. He’s got this.

It takes him a little longer than five hours to complete the test, since he chose to write the optional essay. He finishes around lunchtime. Outside, it’s not snowing anymore, even though the streets are still frozen and white. Archie shoves his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket and walks towards Jeffrey’s truck, hungry and very much tired.

He stops when he notices a familiar guy wearing a crown-shaped beanie, headphones over his ears. Archie changes his path, running a little to catch up with him. “Jughead! Hey!”

Jughead stops, turning around to see who’s calling him. “Oh, hey,” he takes off the headphones, “how did it go?”

Archie shrugs. “Who knows. At least it's over,” he says. Jughead nods, heaving out a breath that shows he also feels that the same weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “Didn’t know you were taking the test at Northside Prep.”

“Yeah. Veronica was the one who registered me, and I guess she keeps forgetting I go to Southside High now.” He chuckles. Archie smiles a little. He knows that Veronica has been helping Jughead with his grades, just like Betty had helped him. Archie isn’t too familiar with Jughead’s story, but he knows that some financial trouble at home ended up jeopardizing his grades and expectations after he had to leave Northside Prep. “I have to catch the train back, so…”

“Oh,” Archie says. “Do— I was going to eat a burger somewhere and then head home. I have my stepdad’s truck. Do you want a ride or something?”

Jughead purses his lips as he considers Archie’s offer. They’ve never spent time together,  but they’ve had the same shitty morning trying to find out the meaning of words like _iconoclast_. Plus, he’s one of Betty and Veronica’s oldest friends. Jughead is sort of weird, but Archie likes him well enough. “Well, I could use a burger right now. Or two.”

“Cool.” Archie smiles, giving him a tap on his shoulder. He takes his phone out of his jeans pocket and turns it on again as they both walk towards Jeff’s truck, Jughead steering himself to the passenger door.

 ** _it’s over. going out for burgers with jug_** _,_ he types a quick reply to Veronica as they walk, right under her string of purple hearts. He remembers their _sort-of-date_ post-game on Wednesday after dinner, parked behind the Pembrooke, making her lose herself in his touch in that very same truck, his mouth on her collarbone. **_call u later?_**

She might take a little while to answer him, so he just sends her a blue heart and pockets his phone again, unlocking the doors so they can get inside the car. “There’s a new comic book shop next to Millennium Park and a Shake Shack right behind it,” Jughead says, taking off his beanie once they’re inside, running a hand through his black, thick hair. “I’d say it’s a perfect combo.”

“Sounds good to me,” Archie says, starting the car. The radio automatically turns on, blasting The Smashing Pumpkin’s _1979_. Jughead nods, impressed, and Archie laughs as he starts driving.

 _We were sure we’d never see an end to it all_ , the band sings. Archie taps the steering wheel with his fingertips.

Retaking the SATs with the Boston skyline in his mind, driving around with a new friend, waiting for the girl he likes to text back. It feels, at the same time, like the end and the beginning of something new.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW, I TOOK SO LONG!
> 
> i needed a hiatus to understand a few things. writing LM was not bringing me any joy. i was always comparing how i peaked reviews and then people just seemed to disappear, and i was just so sad. i took some time off to remember why i'm writing this story and, even though canon sucks for us right now, i am back and SO PUMPED to keep writing. if you're still here, thank you so much, and sorry for the wait.
> 
> archie and ronnie are learning a lot about each other and even thinking about the future. the mustangs are not doing well, and kevin's birthday is coming soon. are reggie and archie reaching an understanding? also, archie and jughead are.. happening?
> 
> i'm so glad if you're still sticking with me. my inbox on tumblr is open for any questions. thank you nic, for sticking with me and being the best beta ever.
> 
> song at the beginning is "too late", by the paper kittens.


	30. Chapter 30

_and i remember how we felt so old  
we fell in love and no one had to know_

 

 

 

 

On Sunday, shortly after eleven, Veronica takes a shower and does her best “no makeup” makeup look. She blow-dries her hair until it’s straight and carefully chooses her outfit — something that isn’t too short, or too tight, or too scandalous. She settles on a camel suede skirt that ends just above her knees and pairs it with black tights and a black, tucked in, cashmere sweater.

She looks at the mirror and takes a deep breath to shake the nervousness away. Despite having already met Archie’s parents on Thanksgiving, she wants to look like a good girl. She wants to be someone they would pick out of a line to be with their son, especially because they never approved of his past relationship.

Veronica puts on her heel-less, thigh-high boots, figuring that they’d be less intimidating than sharp heels. She gathers all the gifts in her purse and, with a touch up of her lip gloss, heads to the door. Her parents, who are sitting in the living room wearing loungewear and sharing a bottle of pre-lunch white wine, follow her with their eyes as she heads to the door — Hermione wasn’t exactly happy to know that she wasn’t having lunch with them but ultimately swallowed whatever she had to say when Veronica lied and said she was going to the hospital to eat with Cheryl.

Andre drives her to Greektown, as instructed. She’s a little fidgety when she gets out of the limo and stares at Archie’s building — she knows she agreed that they would tell his parents, but things have been so good between just the two of them that a part of her is scared that saying it out loud will ruin it.

 _It won’t_ , she promises herself when she rings their apartment. Archie is the one who picks up and buzzes her in. Hearing his excited voice through the intercom is enough to uncoil something inside of her. _It won’t_.

Veronica takes the elevator, making up one to ten excuses in her mind, in case she accidentally bumps into Kevin. But the coast seems clear when she gets to their floor, Archie is already waiting for her at the front door, wearing a hoodie and that easy smile of his, the brightest spot of the entire world.

“Hi,” he says, leaning in to kiss her lightly on the lips. “You’re very punctual. They’re still cooking.”

Veronica reaches out to wipe the lip gloss off his mouth. She barely has time to say anything before Jeffrey spots her from the living room and greets her with a big smile. “Sweetheart! Come on in!”

“Hey, Veronica!” she hears Mary immediately call as she walks into the apartment. Mary's in the kitchen, wearing a polka-dotted apron and her red hair up. “Do you eat bolognese sauce? I figured some comfort food would be ideal with this weather.”

“Yeah,” Veronica answers in a slight stutter, biting the inside of her lower lip as she tries to figure out how to _behave_.

With Reggie’s family, things were a little different — they were together for _months_ before their parents found out, and once they did, a three-course-meal dinner in a presumptuous restaurant was arranged, involving both families. Her father and Ricky Mantle talked business and baseball, her mom and Melinda talked about _how wonderful_ it would be when Veronica and Reggie got _married_ , and Veronica and Reggie were both panicking. When it was over, Veronica heaved out a breath that she seemed to be holding for the entirety of the four hours that the _meeting_ lasted.

 _This_ is something else entirely. It’s hard to act _spontaneously_ , but Veronica figures it’s what they deserve from her. “It sounds and smells delicious, Mary.”

“Great!” Jeffrey is the one who answers, coming closer. She just now notices that he’s also wearing a polka-dotted apron. Veronica can’t help but smile a little. They look ridiculous but also so _coupley_. “All these kids turning vegan nowadays, we never know. Buddy,” he turns to Archie, “be nice and take your lady’s coat.”

 _“I was going to,”_ Archie protests, and his mom chuckles. Veronica suddenly realizes he was standing behind her, his hands hovering above her shoulders. She feels her cheeks heat up just a little — hearing Jeff call her _Archie’s lady_ somehow makes this whole thing feel more _real_ and less of a dream.

He helps her take her coat off, and when he reaches out to take her bag as well, she remembers. “Oh! Mary,” Veronica says. “I brought something for dessert.” She takes out a big box of Swiss chocolate.

“ _Tauscher?_ ” Mary takes off her oven mitts, coming closer to her with a big smile on her face. She takes the box in her hands. “That’s delicious, honey! Thank you so much,” she says, hugging Veronica the very same way she did the other day on Thanksgiving as if nothing had changed. Veronica hugs her back, her face even warmer.

“Oh, are those the ones with walnuts?” Jeff chimes in when they break apart, taking the box from Mary so he can examine it. Veronica glances at Archie and notices his pleased smile, even though the tips of his ears are as red as his hair.

“Ronnie, let’s put these in my room,” he says, meaning Veronica’s coat and bag. “Also, I have to show you something!”

He’s already directing himself to his room, but Veronica can’t help but glance at Mary and Jeff, who are reading the back of the box and trying to figure out what kinds of chocolate she got them. Her house is full of _rules_ regarding boys, so she supposes she can’t just waltz into Archie’s room without their consent first, now that they’re not doing this just as friends. “I’ll put the pasta in once the water boils in a couple of minutes, so everything should be ready in twenty,” Mary says, casually, and then she beams. “Here, darling! Walnuts!”

“Yes!” Jeff celebrates, and then hugs Veronica too, suddenly and tightly, for about thirty seconds before he allows her to follow Archie, who seems half-annoyed, half-content with the whole interaction, a slight smile on his lips.

“Oh, doors open, baby!” Mary screams from the kitchen.

Veronica giggles. Two red spots show under Archie’s cheekbones, but once they are in his room, he looks at her with a slight roll of his eyes. “Doors _barely_ open, baby,” he says with a boyish grin, _almost_ closing the door behind her.

“Archie Andrews, a rebel,” she teases, somewhat impressed as she raises an eyebrow. “Who would’ve thought?”

His face gets even redder, but he mimics her expression, taking a step towards her to rest his hands on her waist. “I am full of surprises,” he says, in a way that makes her laugh a little as she places her hands on his chest, the smooth fabric of his sweatshirt under her palms. He leans down to kiss her, trapping her lower lip between his for a long moment. “Hi, again.”

Veronica smiles, reaching out to touch his face — it’s more stubbly than usual. She strokes his cheek with her thumb. “Hi, Archiekins.” She tiptoes to kiss him one more time, this time just a little deeper. He sighs, pleased, and they only stop when most of her lip gloss has transferred to his mouth.

“You look beautiful,” he mutters when they break apart. Veronica giggles, wiping her lip gloss off his mouth again, then wrapping her arms around his stomach, crossing her hands behind his lower back. “And you brought Swiss chocolates, huh?”

“Yes. This hottie I know once told me that’s what you get when you’re planning to be around a lot,” she says in a coquettish voice. She expects him to blush again, but he just smiles so warmly — it softens every line of his face. Veronica bites her lip for a second before he leans down to capture her lips again, some sort of buzz going through her arms. Her stomach does a funny but familiar flip, something she has been experiencing every now and then, ever since he kissed her at her birthday party.

“I’m sure they’ll be happy that you’ll be around a lot,” he says when they pull apart.

Veronica squints her eyes a little bit, a thought crossing her mind. “What did you tell them, anyway? About us?”

Archie’s grip on her waist is firmer. Veronica thinks his eyes are a bit wary, but it’s just a fraction of a second. He swallows and reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I said that we’re sort of… dating.”

“Really?” Veronica asks, and there’s a note of skepticism in her voice that she didn’t mean to put there. She feels somewhat nervous again, like she did throughout the morning before she got here — before she saw him. “Is that what we’re doing?”

The heat is back to Archie’s face, and it’s visible. There’s a small crease between his eyebrows, but his expression teeters on the edge of warm honesty. He doesn’t stop holding her, and neither does she. “Isn’t it?”

Archie’s eyes are openly expectant. Veronica knows it’s way too soon to think about any sort of _commitment_ , but she does think of shared desserts and holding hands; of the intimate moments they’ve shared together this past week and a little before that. “I don’t know.” She breathes out. “We might need to go on a real date first.”

She watches him relax automatically, a smile on his face. “I think that can be arranged.”

Veronica grins, giving herself up for yet another kiss. Archie caresses her hair and her face, and that jolt of electricity comes back, making her heave out a satisfied sigh against his mouth. Their tongues meet for a moment, but she pulls back then, taking a small step away from him — she’s not about to let anything _else_ happen between them the first time she’s invited for Sunday lunch at his parents’ place.

She chuckles when she sees the disappointed look on his face once she gets out of his embrace. “Did you even have something to show me, or was it just a trap?”

“I do!” He suddenly seems excited again. He goes to his desk, and Veronica frowns a little when she notices a big brown bag. “Yesterday Jug and I went out for lunch, and look what he helped me pick!” _Jug_. Veronica raises both her eyebrows at that but just watches as Archie take out three rolled-up posters from the bag.

“Oh, is it the huge Chris Evans poster you promised me?” she jokes, and he chuckles. She ends up biting back a smile when she notices how carefully he is unrolling the glossy papers. There’s a Captain America one, but the artwork is from the comics — the other two, Black Panther and Cloak and Dagger, follow the same lines. They all match nicely, some sort of black, white, blue and red going on. It’s very fitting for Archie’s all-American, boy-next-door-ish glory.

“They’re _so cool_! I’m thinking about hanging two of them here, and this one over my bed, maybe.”

He sounds excited, a big smile on his face as he points the future locations of the posters. Veronica feels giddy — she can’t help but come closer to him again, standing by his side and wrapping her arms around his waist. Archie swings one arm around her. “They’re nice. Are you thinking about redecorating everything?”

“Yeah. Maybe it’s something you’ll help me do?” He turns his body around just a little, looking down at her. Veronica grins and nods, a whole palette of colors and ideas bursting in her brain. Archie kisses the side of her head. “If you do a good job, I’ll put the R back up, too.”

 _R is for Ronnie_. She remembers that, like it happened yesterday. “Oh, you better,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips. It’s still there when he leans down to kiss her.

 

 

 

 

Archie takes a deep breath when he parks the truck, the windows fogged up from the cold outside. It’s dark already. Veronica said she wouldn’t be here today — something about an important test tomorrow — and Archie thinks that’s perfect. Not because he wants to hide anything from her (he’ll definitely tell her his whereabouts when they text before bed), but because he thinks, and Ms. Baker agrees, that it’s better if he does this alone.

The hospital looks as cold and white as it did ten days ago. He’s not particularly thrilled about being in this place again, but he set himself up to be here the moment he opened his eyes this morning. His excuses — the SATs, getting it right with Veronica — were all gone. And, based on Jason being a headcase during the last game and in practice earlier in the afternoon, things were not going well for the Blossoms. They needed support. They needed their friends.

“You almost missed visiting hours,” the receptionist tells him with a smile while she gets him a visitor sticker. Archie removes the beanie from his head, running a hand through his messy hair. “I suppose you’re Miss Blossom’s relative?”

“Uh…” Archie scratches the back of his head. “I’m just a friend.”

“So many redheads, suddenly.” She seems impressed. “There you go, sweetie. Room seventy-five.”

The door is closed when he gets to the room, but he can see, from the window, that Cheryl is awake and reading a book. He inhales, trying to find the bravery that he needs to knock in the oxygen. It’s so good to know that she’s _alive_ , after seeing her all battered and bruised during the accident. It’s also terrifying to remember how breakable she is.

Archie heaves out a breath and knocks, opening the door as soon as he hears a distracted _come in._ He pokes his head inside the room and then half his body. He did it. Now, he can only hope that Cheryl doesn’t _hate_ his presence here.

“Hey,” he says, biting his lip. Cheryl sets down the book and frowns a little when she notices that he’s standing there. Without the makeup and the red lips and with her hair braided to one side, she looks a lot younger than usual. “How are you feeling?”

She parts her lips, _almost_ surprised. The glass cuts all over her skin are fading. “Archie. Hey. Come in,” she says in a soft voice, still frowning. He does as she tells him, feels something lodged in his throat. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

He nods. It’s so fucking weird to know that the last time he ever spoke to her was on Halloween, when they were together in that whole mess. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I had a lot going on.”

Cheryl avoids his eyes for a second. “Veronica mentioned. Something about the SATs?”

“Yeah.” He feels his cheeks heating up for no reason. The bag he’s carrying somehow gets heavy in his hand, and he remembers its contents. “I got you something,” he says, walking a little closer to the bed. Cheryl reaches out to take the gift. “Hopefully it will help you pass time. Ronnie said you’re _this close_ to becoming a show host on TLC.”

Cheryl smiles a little. She pulls the gift out of the bag and unwraps it delicately. “Oh,” she says when she sees what he got her — a coloring book with some colored pencils, something he bought on a whim while searching for comic books with Jughead the other day. She presses her lips together for a moment. “That’s really nice, Archie. Thank you.”

 _Archie_. He thinks back, wondering how many times she actually called him by his name — it was always _handsome_ , _cutie,_ or all the other existing variants. Her voice was always so _fierce_ , so high-pitched. He barely recognizes the softness of the bruised girl in the hospital bed in front of him.

“I thought you’d might like it,” he says, shoving his hands inside his pockets just to have something to do with them. He watches, rather anxious, as she flips through the pages of the coloring book. From the monitor, he can see that her heartbeats are very steady. He’s not sure if he should get closer.

She goes through all the pages, different plants and butterflies forming pictures waiting to be filled-in with color. Once she’s done and closes the book, she looks up at him with honest eyes. “So, you were around when _this_ happened,” she says. She means the accident. Archie nods slowly, hands still in his pockets. “Thanks for helping save me.”

He shakes his head vehemently, taking another step towards her. “I didn’t— I didn’t do anything. I just checked your breathing, and I don’t know, yelled for someone to call an ambulance.” He swallows hard, flashes of that nightmare coming back to his brain. “Anyone would've done it.”

“Maybe. But you’re the one who did it, so…” She reaches out a hand. Archie looks at it, her normally long, red nails stripped of any nail polish, cut shorter for some reason. He takes another step and takes her hand. Cheryl squeezes his fingers.

“I’m so sorry, Cheryl,” Archie breathes out, running the hand that isn’t holding hers over his face. “What happened before all this… I wasn’t—” He stops, because he doesn’t really know how to go on.

“It’s not your fault, Archie,” she says, honestly. “I _wasn’t_ , either.”

He understands perfectly what she means. They look at each other for a moment, brown eyes full of frankness. Cheryl lets his hand go first. He takes the cue and sits on the chair beside her bed, feeling reprieved.

“Veronica told me the Mustangs lost the game,” Cheryl mentions, casually, after a beat of silence. Archie snorts. With what happened at practice today, they might as well lose the championship. “I’d like to think it’s because your head cheerleader wasn’t there, so you weren’t motivated enough. But, maybe it has something to do with your captain?”

Archie sighs. He thinks about saying that Jason just isn’t in the mood for basketball, but that would be an understatement. Deliberately not going to class because _whatever_. Not talking to anyone about anything. Throwing a ball against Coach Clayton so forcefully it almost hit _,_ and _hurt,_ him. Starting December with a detention. It’s been a rough return.

“I feel like—” Archie stops. He doesn’t know if he _should_ fill Cheryl in on her brother’s antics, but she’s looking at him like she _expects_ him to tell her the truth. “He’s having a hard time assimilating with everything that’s happening.”

“You mean, _me_?”

Archie ponders. “Yeah. I mean, of course he’s worried about you, but I think it’s also… Everything. Your parents and what they’re doing. Your grandma taking over… Everything changed overnight. It isn’t easy to let that sink in.”

Cheryl listens to him, a distant look on her face. It takes her a while to talk again. “Sometimes I think I wasn’t supposed to be here,” she says, pale fingers tracing the outline of a flower in her coloring book. Archie frowns, wondering what she really means — but it’s not such a foreign feeling. “I don’t want to ruin his life. He crossed the ocean to go after me because I’m a screw-up, and now we’re both screwed.”

“You’re not… You’re not a screw-up, Cheryl. You wanted something else for your life, and that’s okay.” He looks down at his hands. He can hear himself in her words, just like he could see himself in Jason’s actions earlier on that day. “I— my parents forced me to move to Chicago because I went through something, and they didn’t think I would be safe anymore, back in my hometown. I ended up in a hospital bed, just like you,” he confesses, looking up at her. Cheryl has a soft crease between her eyebrows. “But even then, I couldn’t _see_ what they meant. I couldn’t… I kept thinking that I’d rather be dead than leave everything behind.”

He waits for her to ask what happened, but she instead asks, “What changed?”

“I met someone who helped me.” He swallows. “A… professional. I go to therapy every Monday, and I honestly don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for her. It’s funny.” Archie chuckles softly. “Three months ago, I’d be so embarrassed, telling you this.”

“Guess we’ve both been through a lot.” Cheryl smiles a little.

“It’s been… a fucking roller coaster, getting better, but I _am_ getting better. Things are really turning around for me,” he says, smiling too. He thinks about Veronica, wrapped up on the couch with him only yesterday, being welcomed by his parents in their lives. “I’ll give you my therapist’s number. I think she could help you guys too, you know? To… be okay with your new reality.”

Cheryl nods. She hasn't had a cellphone ever since the whole European venture, and he doesn’t think she’ll get a new one anytime soon. So, he writes the number on a blank page in her coloring book, using a green pencil to do so. “Thank you, Archie. I’m glad we can count on you.”

Archie smiles and reaches out to hold her hand one more time. He’s glad, too. Glad that they can talk again, and that their friendship hasn’t been ruined. “Always.”

 

 

 

 

On Wednesday, before school, Veronica forces herself to sit down with her parents to have breakfast. Kevin’s birthday party is coming soon, and she figures it’s better if she’s not a _persona non grata_ if she wants to go without any disturbance — and with her credit cards. She knows that she can’t use Cheryl’s circumstance to get what she wants forever — her mother’s good graces were fading ever since Veronica skipped Sunday lunch to go to Archie’s house.

She wears her pearls and a perfectly pressed shirt and takes her usual seat to her father’s right. Hermione looks fairly delighted, asking Consuelo to get Veronica a plate of _huevos revueltos_. Discreetly, Hermione touches Hiram’s wrist, prompting him to set down the newspaper he’d been reading and wish his daughter _good morning_.

It’s the first thing Hiram has said to her, ever since days before Thanksgiving, and she _hates_ him. She hates the way his voice gets to her. “Good morning, Daddy,” she says, swallowing the lump in her throat.

The Lodges don’t talk much during breakfast — it makes her think of the lunch with Archie’s family, how they kept talking and interrupting each other, laughing out loud at some of Jeff’s lame jokes. Veronica pokes at her eggs until her father asks, casually, as if he hadn’t given her the silent treatment for _days_ : what her plans are for the day.

“I have school and cheer practice,” she answers, carefully, because Hiram wouldn’t ask her anything if he didn’t have a reason for it. Then, she remembers, and almost laughs. _Of course_. “Then, I’m meeting Jughead Jones at the library.”

Veronica watches intently when she says that, but both Hiram and Hermione keep their expressions blank. It’s almost as if the gala never happened. She waits, her eyes slightly narrowed, thinking about her next move. Were they testing her? She was the one who started this so that she could manipulate them, so why does she feel like the tables have turned?

Hiram simply wipes his mouth with a napkin, drinking a sip of his coffee. “Are you working on your college applications?”

“That too.”

“I’d like to read your essays, before you send them to Yale.”

Veronica smiles briefly, schooling her expression into the emptiest one she can manage. It was about time they mentioned it. “I’ll make sure to show you before I send them, Daddy.”

“We still don't understand why you chose regular decision,” Hermione chimes in, perfectly manicured nails around her china cup. “Your father and I had lunch with Rebecca the other day — you know, Rebecca Levin, the one who’s on the board — and she said she was surprised that our daughter didn't choose to apply early action.”

Veronica feels the urge to bite the inside of her mouth but doesn’t, knowing that the slightest sign of anxiety would give herself away. “Don’t worry, Mom. I know what I’m doing.”

 

 

 

 

After breakfast, Hiram insists that he’ll give her a ride to school, so she doesn’t get to stop for coffee with Betty like she usually does. At least, she gets to see Archie during biology — he looks good, and clean, wearing white, and she _yearns_ to touch him. They manage to squeeze five minutes alone between periods, and Veronica holds him so tightly, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, that he ends up asking if she’s okay. 

“I am now,” she says, holding his face to kiss him, but the energy he charges her up with soon fades. By the time she meets Jughead at the library, she’s exhausted.

It’s freezing outside — as it often is, these days — and the library is emptier than usual. Aside from Jughead and Veronica, there’s just one other group of people, as well as the librarian, who has left her usual spot and is organizing books on the shelves.

“So, you’re not even applying to Yale?” Jughead asks in a low voice, when she fills him in.

“I don’t know. I feel like an idiot. Yale _is_ one of the best universities in this country, and there _is_ a possibility that I won’t get into Harvard. But I feel like… I don’t want to give them any sort of victory or validation. Does that make me a spoiled brat?”

Jughead throws her a pointed look, and it makes her chuckle. He smiles too, just a little, and then blows out a breath. “I don’t know. My best advice is that you should do whatever will make you happy and proud of yourself. And if that takes Yale off the table, then…” He shrugs.

Veronica drops her head to the table. “This is such a _first world problem_.” She groans, and Jughead laughs. “Give me something else to worry about.”

“Well,” he taps his planner with the eraser end of his pencil, then lowers his voice even more, “remember Sweet Pea? The Serpent prospect at Southside High?”

Veronica lifts her head up, her eyebrows creasing. “Yes.”

“He hasn’t been around ever since Thanksgiving break, so I’m guessing that he’s finally earned the cut. He's probably an _official_ Serpent now,” he says. Veronica’s eyes meet his for a second, and she tries to identify what that could mean for their plans. “Either that or he’s dead.”

He says it in such a casual way that she winces. “Jesus, Jughead.”

“I don’t know. Sweet Pea disappearing made me think that it’s time I confront my dad about the gang. My mom and JB are supposed to come home for Christmas, and he’s trying to sober up. And I think— he needs to know that I’m _aware_ of what’s going on.”

Veronica doesn’t even have time to tell him that it’s a bad idea, because her phone starts vibrating continuously, making the whole table shake a little. She reaches out and notices it’s Archie calling — her mind goes blank for a second. She rejects his call, her lips involuntarily curling upwards, and quickly opens their text thread.

 ** _sorry. at the library. everything okay?_** she types.

Archie’s answer comes quickly. **_yeah! i'm studying for that french quiz we have on friday and i had some doubts, lol._**

**_shoot._ **

**_what does ‘tu me manques’ mean?_ **

Veronica bites her lip, holding back a bigger smile. She’s never ready for the full force of his affection and all the cheesy things he does. **_smooth, andrews._** she sends him, and then follows with **_‘I miss you.’_**

**_i miss u too!_ **

She can’t help but giggle. The library is not far from his house at all, so maybe she could stop by when she’s done. Veronica shares her location with him, just so he knows that she’s near and that something could be arranged, but before she can ask if she can come by later, Jughead brings her back to reality.  
  
“Who’s the guy?” he asks, sounding amused.  
  
She’s caught off guard, bringing her phone to her chest. “What?” Her voice comes out more high-pitched than it should. “There’s no guy. It’s just— Betty.”  
  
Veronica regrets saying that the second it leaves her mouth. It was the first name that came to mind, but Jughead’s eyebrows travel towards his beanie. They both know Betty doesn’t touch her phone before she’s done with all her tasks for the day, which doesn’t happen before dinner, ever. “Okay,” Jughead says, a smirk forming on his lips, and Veronica feels her face heat up. “I wonder if that’s why Archie invited me for burgers the other day. Is he trying to get my approval or something?”  
  
Veronica rolls her eyes, wanting to wipe that smug grin off his face. “Please. As if he’d need _your_ approval, of all people,” she says, and Jughead chuckles. Veronica rubs her temples, realizing that she just gave herself away completely. “Fuck. Listen…”  
  
“Don’t worry.” He brings his fingers to his mouth, as if zipping his lips closed — but he’s more smug than before. “My lips are sealed.”  
  
“Okay.” Veronica sets her phone down and places a notebook in front of her, just so she has something to do with her hands. “Cool.”  
  
They forget to keep talking about the Serpents and bury their heads into their notes for a while, studying in comfortable silence. About half an hour later, Jughead lifts his head, and his laughter catches her attention. “Look. _Betty_ is here.”

Veronica follows his gaze to the room’s entrance, and she sees Archie standing there, looking a little lost. His cheeks are red from the cold outside, his hair all messy, and Veronica feels her breath catch in her throat. Archie spots her but refrains from walking towards her when he sees that Jughead is there too. Veronica wants to punch that _beanie-wearing hobo_ , as Cheryl used to call him, because he just keeps laughing in silence.

She settles for kicking his shin under the table and then stands so she can meet Archie at the door. He’s frowning, confused, when she grabs him by the wrist and leads him out the library room.

“I’m sorry,” Archie says as soon as they’re away from the _silence, please_ zone. “You sent the location and didn’t say you were here with Jug, so I assumed—”

Veronica interrupts him with a kiss that ends up getting deeper than she aimed for. Archie sighs, his hands on her waist, and lets his forehead rest against hers once they break apart. “I accidentally told him,” she confesses, still angry at herself for doing so.

“That’s okay,” Archie says, leaning in to kiss her again but stopping halfway. “Are we telling anyone else?”

She shakes her head. She’s not ready to tell anyone — yes, because Cheryl is still at the hospital and everything between the three of them is _just_ being slowly mended, but also because she doesn’t feel like sharing her moments with Archie with _anyone_ , yet. At least, she knows that Jughead can keep a secret. “I’ll be more careful,” she promises, kissing him quickly. Archie opens his mouth as if to say something — maybe that he isn’t asking her to be careful, or that he doesn’t _care_ — but Veronica figures she doesn’t want to hear it. “I’m glad you’re here, though. We’re studying. Do you want to join?”

“I brought my stuff.” He shrugs. She only now notices that he’s carrying his backpack and smiles. “What? I really was studying for that French quiz.”

“Hmm, okay.” Veronica caresses his face with her thumb. _“Je veux que tu m’embrasses encore.”_

Archie raises his eyebrows. “I have only half an idea of what that means, but I’m _very_ into it,” he says, pressing against her body, that unexpected boldness that never fails to cover her skin with goosebumps. Veronica giggles and is about to say something else in French, when he ducks his head down and kisses her again.

It’s what she asked for, anyways. She kisses him back.

 

 

 

 

Archie is sitting in a booth at Lou’s, his latte getting cold as he tries to make some sense of the words in the French textbook spread out in front of him. To be honest, French _is_ one of his strongest subjects — God only knows how — and he’s counting on a good grade on the quiz tomorrow. 

 _Je veux_ , is the verb that starts the phrase he’s supposed to fill in. Archie smiles to himself when he remembers Veronica at the library yesterday, the way her pretty mouth was shaped when she said those words to him. _Vouloir_ , an irregular verb that means _to want_. He can’t think of a better verb to describe what he feels for Veronica. He wants her all the time. Not only her body but also her presence. He wants her opinions. Her quiet laugh. Her perfume. Her little smiles. Her _kiss_. It gets him lightheaded just thinking about her and all the things that come with her.

“Why are you blushing? Are you reading about how babies are made?”

Archie looks up. It’s Kevin, who’s turning eighteen today, and whose nose and cheeks are very pink from the cold outside. Archie already congratulated him earlier, when they were at school. Kevin changed outfits since then, and he looks particularly good, wearing the leather jacket he makes Archie wear every now and then, and a navy scarf around his neck. “Kev? What are you doing here?”

“Your stepfather told me you’d be here, and I have half an hour to kill before Moose picks me up. So I figured, why not spend it with a redheaded prince?”

“Jason wasn’t available?” Archie jokes and then smiles, closing his book as Kevin takes a seat across from him. “My treat. It’s a double-mocha kind of day for the birthday boy.”

“Thanks.” He unwraps the scarf from around his neck and takes off his gloves. His smile is sweet, but then it turns to mocking again. “It would be outrageous to buy my own coffee on my birthday.”

“You’re not even buying your own dinner, apparently.” Archie chuckles, calling the waitress to order for Kevin. “Where is Moose taking you? Sounds romantic.”

He shrugs. “Who even knows? He came up with the idea of taking me out today, so I let him plan the whole thing. I’m not one-hundred percent sure that you Mustangs can plan a good date.”

Archie, who has been thinking about _how_ his official first date with Veronica could go ever since she hinted about it on Sunday, also doesn’t know if planning for a good date is amongst his natural talents. Everything seems too little or too much.

A part of him wishes that he could talk to Kevin about it. His neighbor would definitely have a thousand ideas.

“Talking about the Maroon Madness, that reminds me!” Kevin reaches for his wallet in the inner pocket of his jacket. “The only reason I talked to Jeffrey in the first place was so I could give you this.” He hands over a card, and Archie frowns. “Your fake ID is ready! It's even done early.”

_Oh._

“Kevin.”

“Yes? Ah. Thank you, sweetie,” he tells the waitress when she brings him his mocha. “Anything wrong with it?” He turns back to Archie, a smile still in his face.

“This is fucking _terrible_.” Archie shows him the fake ID, a little exasperated. “Where did you even get this photo??”

“I think it’s from Facebook.” Kevin takes a sip of his coffee and doesn’t seem to care that Archie looks _horrible_ in a picture he didn’t even know existed, something cut out from another picture. His hair brushed back making his head look a thousand times bigger, and his ears are poking out. “It’s okay. Everyone looks awful in their IDs, so this makes it more realistic.”

“It says my name is Wilbur Wilkins!”

“Indeed.”

“Wilbur Wilkins!” Archie looks down at the ID again. “Who’s gonna be stupid enough to let someone called Wilbur Wilkins get into a club? Who would name their kid that?!”

Kevin is unfazed. “You think it’d be any better if it said _Archibald Andrews_?”

“I’m not—” Archie sighs. He guesses he can’t argue with that, but it’s still frustrating. “This is the worst fake ID I’ve ever seen, Kev. Where did you get it?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kevin brushes it off, but when Archie keeps staring at him, he rolls his eyes. “The same person who did all of our fake IDs before.”

“Keller.”

“Okay, _okay_. But it’s my birthday, so you’re not allowed to get angry with me.” He points a finger at Archie, the smile finally falling from his face. “I got it done by Reggie.”

 

 

 

 

When Veronica gets to Nookie’s — she did make Andre drive her so she could avoid the cold, even though it is just a five-minute walk from the Pembrooke — Betty is at their usual table by the window and has already ordered waffles with a variety of toppings and a large pot of black coffee. She’s wearing a light grey sweater with an embellished collar, and her hair is down.

“Wow,” Veronica says, taking the seat across from her best friend. “It’s Kevin’s birthday, not mine, but I’ll take it.”

Betty smiles sweetly and also a little apologetic. “This is my way of apologizing for being a total bitch these past days.”

Veronica presses her lips together. Her own past days have been so filled up by several obligations with school, Cheryl, trying to _survive_ in her house of horrors, and obviously, _Archie_ , that she has very purposefully ignored the reappearance of Buzzkill Betty. They haven’t ridden together to school once, ever since they got back from the Thanksgiving break. She feels a bit like a shitty friend.

“I’m— it’s okay, B. You didn’t need to do this.”

“No, really,” Betty starts, pouring some coffee in Veronica’s cup. “My parents are impossible. Jason is living with us while everything isn’t sorted out and staying in Polly’s bedroom. I don’t know if _that’s_ what stressing them out or what, but they keep telling me that I won’t get into Columbia and that I need to make more plans and get serious about my future and I just—” Betty blows out a breath. “I only applied there and haven't started other applications yet, and they keep making me second-guess my decisions. It’s been a lot.”

Veronica reaches out to take Betty’s hand over the table. Turning it around, she can see, when her friend uncurls her fingers, the bruises that she dug into her palms. It’s something Betty has done since she was a small child. “Did you show these to your brother?” Veronica asks, knowing that Chic always advocated for Betty to their parents, whenever he saw his little sister was hurting.

Betty shakes her head. “I know I should. I just—”

“It’s okay. Promise that you will?” 

“I will,” Betty says, and Veronica believes her. They exchange soft smiles. Veronica lets go of her hand, and they cheer with their coffee cups. “ _Okay_ , I talked to Kev and reassured him that I’d love it if he got into Columbia too. Now I’ve talked to you. That just leaves Archie on my list. I shouldn’t have announced his SAT situation in front of everyone.”

“Yeah,” Veronica bites her lip, “he was pretty upset about that.”

 

 

 

 

“C’mon, don’t be upset.” 

“You got Reggie Fucking Mantle to hook me up with a fake ID that has a bad photo and an even worse name, and I’m not allowed to be upset?”

“You’re reading into this too much. We’re going clubbing with a guy called _Forsythe, the Third_ , for God’s sake.” Archie drops his head onto his hands, irritated. Reggie Mantle _hates_ him off the court, and Kevin, who’s supposed to be his best friend, just _allowed_ him to make fun of Archie like that. “Listen, we don’t have time to find another one. In two days, you’re going _clubbing_ for the first time, and _this_ will get you in. You should be grateful.”

Archie barely lifts his head to look at Kevin. “I should be _grateful_?”

“Yes but you’re just a drama queen. Have you considered all the possibilities this stupid fake ID will give you? You’ll be in a _club_. Picture this. Smoke. Flashing lights. Loud music. You, drunk enough to be bolder. Veronica Lodge dancing right in front of you…”

Archie is clearly confused for a second. “Where is this coming from?” he asks, tentatively, but his face and ears get warmer than they should.

Kevin shrugs, paying more attention to his cup of coffee than to anything else. “I’m just saying that _things have happened_ between you and Veronica when you were together surrounded by that kind of _atmosphere_ before.”

 

 

 

 

“You and Archie seem to be getting closer, lately.” 

Veronica frowns. Betty is saying that in a slightly suggestive way, even though she’s paying more attention to her cup of coffee than to anything else. A thought crosses Veronica’s mind: she’s going to _kill_ Jughead. No, really. She’s going to ask Hiram to murder Jughead.

“Where is this coming from?” She asks, trying to find anything in Betty’s expression that would give away that Jughead did snitch on her.

“What? He opened up to you about being upset with what I said.”

“Yes, because he’s my _friend_ ,” Veronica says in a decisive tone, as if this statement is the truest possible one to have ever been said. Betty tilts her head, pondering — the way she does it makes Veronica realize that she doesn’t know anything more than she should. She’d still like to kill Jughead, though, just for sport.

(That’s a lie, though. Jughead stopped laughing as soon as she went back to the library with Archie and said _hey, man_ in a very neutral way, as if nothing had changed. Everything was comfortable between them, and for that Veronica _was_ kind of grateful.)

“I know.” Betty nods. She’s about to have a bite of her waffle, when she stops the fork midway. “A friend who is _clearly_ in love with you.”

 

 

 

 

He _knows_ he’s a terrible liar, but he forces himself to be better. Even with his parents and Jughead knowing about them, Veronica still wanted to keep it a secret, and whatever she wanted was right for him. He owed it to her to not give himself away. 

“Veronica and I happened ages ago, Kev,” Archie says, drinking whatever’s left of his latte, which is already cold.

“ _I know_.” Kevin sighs. “But— look. We all know that you’re in love with her.”

 

 

 

 

Veronica feels something weird in her throat. Her breath seems a little erratic, all of sudden. Yes, Archie _likes_ her and wants to be with her, that’s not in question, but _in love_ seems— “Why are you saying this?” she hears herself asking. “Did Archie say anything?” 

Betty throws Veronica a soft, gentle gaze. “No, V. But have you seen the way he looks at you? You can’t be that oblivious.”

 

 

 

 

Archie parts his lips. Maybe Kevin fell for his white lie, but he can’t control the warmth growing on his cheeks. He closes his mouth again, unable to say anything, swallowing whatever _yes_ or _no_ that got caught in his throat. 

“I mean, aren't we all in love with Veronica? Sure. But you— you keep looking at her like she hung the moon and stars, and it’s just _obvious_.”

“It’s not—” Archie starts, but he can’t find anything inside himself to rebuke whatever Kevin is going on about.

Kevin lifts up a hand. “Don’t try to deny it. I’m _tired._ Like you said, the Back to School Dance happened ages ago, and I know you haven’t exactly gotten any action ever since, so—”

“Is this some sort of intervention?”

 

 

 

_Have you seen the way he looks at you?_

Veronica clenches her jaw. She kind of hates that someone else has noticed the way that Archie’s eyes soften whenever he’s around her, that knowing this isn't exclusive to just her. She lets her gaze wander, thinking about the past few days.

“Look, I don’t— if you don’t want to be with him or to give him a chance, that’s fine.” Betty holds her hand again, bringing her back to the moment. “And if you guys are just friends, that’s fine too, but I feel like someone needs to tell you that you’re _allowed_ to.”

“Allowed to what?”

“To move on from what happened with Reggie and let yourself be with someone who’s going to treat you right.”

 

 

 

 

“Betty and I call it _Operation Varchie_.” Kevin sounds proud, even though it takes Archie a moment to understand what that means. “I’m going to provide the _ambiance_. You just have to make things happen.”

“Make things happen?”

“You know, _make things happen._ Like back at Veronica’s place, after Cheryl’s party.” He wiggles his eyebrows, suggestively. “Ignite that fire, Wilbur.”

 

 

 

 

In the end, forcing herself to have breakfast at the table and ride to school with her father pays out: on Saturday evening, when Veronica announces that she’s going to Kevin’s birthday party and that she’ll probably sleep over at Josie’s, Hermione only advises her to take care and to be home before sunset, the next day.

(She also gives Veronica back one of the credit cards she’d confiscated before Thanksgiving, and that’s all Veronica really wanted after playing the good daughter for three days straight. It feels like a victory.)

Veronica leaves the Pembrooke in a Lyft, feeling the drum of her heart in her chest. It’s been a _while_ since she lied to everyone so she could sleep over at a boy’s house. Even if she searches her memory, she can only think of one occasion, before Reggie and her were official — they decided to sneak out for a weekend in his lake house without telling anyone.  That happened such a long time ago.

Veronica has tried to shove Betty’s words into the depths of her mind, but they keep coming back to her every now and then — _you’re allowed to move on from what happened with Reggie._

It occurred to Veronica, after hearing those words, that she’s so good at being guarded and keeping her feelings in check that no one, not even Betty, knows the truth about what happens inside of her. No one knows that she moved on from Reggie even before she realized she wanted to be with Archie.  No one knows that Reggie treated her so well, until she blindsided him with the breakup. No one knows that Reggie said he needed to stop loving her and that all she could say was _I’m sorry._

Veronica is not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

There’s a bit of traffic around E Lower Wacker Drive. Veronica texts Archie to say that she might be a bit late, and he takes about five minutes to answer, saying that he’ll get in the shower. They’re supposed to be at Kevin’s place at nine-thirty so they can start pre-gaming, and it’s already eight-ten when Veronica finally arrives at the building, being buzzed in by Jeffrey, since Archie is still showering.

“Thank you for letting me sleepover, Mary,” Veronica politely says when she greets Archie’s mom. “My place is a long way from the club Kevin chose.”

“Not a problem, sweetie.” Mary smiles at her from the couch. She seems to be eating some stew from a bowl, her feet tucked under her legs, wearing flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt that must belong to Jeff. Veronica can’t remember seeing her own mother so _cozy_ like that. “Archie mentioned you live up—” she swallows whatever she was chewing, “up north. Nice buildings in that region.”

 _My father built them all_ , she would say, at some other time. “Yeah, it’s a nice neighborhood. But I always thought living around downtown would be more fun.”

“It’s a lot of noise, but it’s very convenient,” Jeff says. Veronica notices that he’s still carrying one of the bags she brought. “Sweetheart?” He looks at Mary, and they seem to talk with their eyes for a split second.

“ _Oh_ , of course. Veronica, you can make yourself comfortable in Archie’s room. We decided he’ll sleep here on the couch, and you’ll get the bed,” Mary says. Veronica wonders if she’s a little nervous, because Jeff is nodding with enthusiasm, showing support. “Unfortunately, we don’t have a guest bedroom, but I promise you we cleaned up his room for you. You know how men are.”

“Hey!” Jeff sounds a little offended. “Not all m—” he starts but stops as soon as Mary throws him an icy look. Veronica giggles when she sees his smile. “She always gets angry when I say that,” he explains. “I’ll take your things to Archie’s room.”

“There’s no need for that, Jeff. I can take them.”

“It's okay. I’m already there. _Sweetheart?_ ”

Mary, who was about to take another spoonful, stops in the middle of her movement. “ _Oh_ , yeah. Veronica, if you need anything, just let us know. You can use my bathroom to shower if you want, and you can take anything in the fridge or cabinets that you need. Make yourself at home. I mean it.”

It’s a weird, sour feeling that takes over Veronica — something similar to what she felt on Thanksgiving, before everything happened with Archie. She smiles at Mary, biting the inside of her lower lip, and wonders if she’s deserving of all this kindness.

“Thank you,” she repeats, following Jeff to Archie’s room. They changed the sheets and the comforter, and the bed is now covered in navy blue. There’s also a clean towel for her at the edge of the bed. 

She showered at home, so she just needs to put on her clothes and do her makeup. She sits on Archie’s bed, thanking Jeff for bringing her things. She can hear the shower running, in the closed bathroom across the hallway, and beneath the water sounds, she can hear Archie singing softly, a song she can’t recognize. Veronica chuckles. His voice makes the bad feelings go away.

She listens to the mix of him singing and the television in the living room as she does her makeup, and she’s blending charcoal and dark green eyeshadow together over her eyelids when Archie appears at the door. He’s shirtless, but wearing black jeans, and rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Hey, babe.” He genuinely smiles when he sees her, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. He smells amazing. “Are you moving in?” he jokes, pointing at her two carry-on bags and her backpack with his chin.

Veronica rolls her eyes. “I brought all the glasses for Kevin’s pre-game. There’s also a top for Betty because _I know_ she’ll be wearing a sweater and will overheat the second she steps into the club,” she tries to justify. Archie looks at her with both eyebrows raised. “What? I like to have options.”

“You’re not ready?” He frowns, taking in the outfit she’s wearing and the bold eye makeup. Veronica thinks she must look scandalized — _as if_ she’d go out wearing dark denim, an oversized black sweater, and biker boots — because Archie chuckles. “I guess not.”

“What are _you_ wearing, anyway?” She gets up, walks towards his closet, and opens the doors without much ceremony. Archie sits on the bed, the same spot she was on before, and watches as she ruffles through his clothes. “You need more jackets. And button-ups. Where’s that leather jacket you had on when we first met and at the Variety Show?”

She quickly glances over her shoulder and catches a smile on his lips. “That’s obviously Kevin’s,” the tone of his voice gives away that he’s finding this amusing.

“Mmm,” Veronica gets a white Henley from a drawer, handing it to him. “I can’t believe you don’t own a sports jacket. Remind me to renovate your wardrobe when we redecorate your room.” She finds a dark denim jacket that’s a little worn out. “This will— _oh_.”

She stops talking when Archie gets right behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist and diving his face in the crook of her neck. Veronica freezes when he plants a kiss right where her neck ends and the curve of her shoulder starts, and then another one a little higher.

“Archie,” she lowers her voice, her heart instantly beating faster. He kisses the bone behind her ear, and it sends a shiver down her spine. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” he says, only for her to hear, a hint of his teeth on her earlobe. She lets him run his mouth around her neck for a while, until she completely melts with her back against him. Veronica bites on her lip and turns around inside of his embrace, looking up at him. She still has the jacket in her hand. “I love whatever you did to your eyes.”

Veronica feels her face getting warmer, very aware of his naked torso and the way his chest is rising as he breathes. “Stop being cute. The door is wide open, and your parents are right—”

He stops her with a kiss on her mouth. Veronica breathes in, deepening the kiss, allowing her tongue to meet his. They’ve kissed a lot this week, hidden moments here and there, but ever since the game, they haven’t permitted things to heat up.

Well — it’s kind of heating up now, if Veronica has something to say about it. Archie is controlled, holding her jaw and tilting her face so he can get a better angle inside her mouth, but Veronica feels that usual hunger bubbling up inside her. She wants to run her hands all over his chest. She wants to dig her nails into his back. Wrap her legs around his waist.

She doesn’t do any of these things, just kisses him back for a while. It scares her, sometimes, how easy it is being with him. Letting herself be surrounded by his goodness, leaning into his arms when she’s not feeling well, there’s some magic to Archie Andrews — it’s like he fixes all that’s broken in this world.

“Archie.” She breathes when he breaks the kiss, both panting against each other’s mouths. She thinks he knows what it means — they really _can’t_ go on with that, not right now, not _here_.

“I just wanted to enjoy you a little before we go to Kevin’s and I have to pretend that—” He stops talking, kissing her again, her lower lip trapped between his. Veronica sighs, almost in a whimper, and when he pulls apart again, she practically shivers with the electricity that runs between them.

“We’ll get dressed,” Veronica whispers against his mouth. “I’ll go to Kevin’s first. You show up five, ten minutes later,” she brushes her lips with his, “and the minute we’re inside that club, we’re going to find somewhere to go, okay?” She runs her knuckles gently down his jawline. “Just us, only me and you.”

He wears the soft smile that only surfaces when he’s around her, squeezes her waist gently, and then kisses her cheek, as gentle as possible, as if he wasn’t devouring her mouth just a minute ago. It makes her even more flushed. “Okay,” he says, and then takes a step back, getting the denim jacket from her hand, and the shirt she had handed him before. “I’ll go get dressed, then,” he throws her a look, “somewhere else.”

Veronica places a hand on the back of her neck, feeling warm. Archie smiles, the clothes in his hands, and he looks at her one more time before leaving the room. When their eyes meet, his smile gets bigger, and another portion of Betty’s words flood Veronica’s mind.

_He’s clearly in love with you._

She bites the inside of her lip and pushes the words back into the very recesses of her brain. Betty doesn’t know anything about it.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna take a little while to answer your comments, 'cause i'm travelling and i just took some time off to publish the chapter for you guys! but THANK YOU SO MUCH for the response, i'll 100% answer them as soon as i can, and i was so glad for the feedback this time. thank you for sticking with me.
> 
> i'll be back with a better author's note, but for now, just enjoy the fluffiness and let me know what you think! <3
> 
> song in the beginning is "backseat" by charli adams. such a pretty song!


	31. Chapter 31

_i want you all to myself  
don't leave none for nobody else_

 

 

 

 

Veronica says she needs more time to get ready, so Archie ends up leaving first for Kevin’s pre-game. The walk from one apartment to the other is as short as ever — about five steps between their front doors — and Kevin greets him with a big hug.

“Wilbur!” He says, sounding excited, green eyes filling with approval once he takes in Archie’s outfit. “You actually look good. Who chose your jacket?”

“Uh.” Archie frowns. Veronica did help him pick out the entire outfit, but in Archie’s eyes, the combo of a white Henley and a denim jacket it isn’t all that different from what he wears every day. “Me?”

“Hi, Arch!” Betty calls from inside the apartment. He almost chuckles when he notices that she is, indeed, wearing jeans and a sweater, like Veronica predicted. Her blonde hair is down, though, and there are little eyeliner wings at the corners of her eyes. She walks towards him with a determined look on her face and winds her arms around him, hugging him.

Archie hugs her back, a little surprised. From over her shoulder, he notices that Jughead is there too, kind of slouched on the couch and not paying much attention to the scene. Archie rubs Betty’s back, unsure of what to do, before she pulls apart. “What was that for?”

“I’m sorry for telling everyone about your SATs. It wasn’t for me to tell. For what it's worth, I really am proud of you and all of your achievements,” she says, in a way that makes Archie think that she spent a lot of time practicing in the mirror.

He smiles. That happened only last week, but it already feels like a lifetime. “It’s okay, Betts. I’m not upset anymore,” he tells her, honestly. “Plus, I wouldn’t have been able to take them without your help, so—”

“Yeah, yeah, beautiful,” Kevin chimes in, making Jughead chuckle. “Is this a party or a sob-fest?”

“Now that I’m here, a party!”

“V!”

The apartment door was still open since Archie just barely walked in. He turns around to look at Veronica, who just arrived, and once he does that, he finds out that he can’t stop. She already looked beautiful ten minutes ago at his place, but now she looks _fucking great_ in her sequined crop top under a faux-fur jacket paired with a short skirt and high heels, her hair all tousled around her face.

She glances at him, her eyes darker given the bold makeup, just barely acknowledging his presence, and then turns to Kevin, handing him a bag. “Here are the Martini glasses for our _Cosmos._ And, oh, no. Betty Cooper, you are _not_ wearing that to a club.”

 

 

 

 

Veronica makes Betty change into a silver-ish, satin top and paints her lips red. Jughead seems to approve of the new outfit when she comes to sit with him and Archie on the couch — he plants a quick kiss on her now bare shoulder. Archie looks at Veronica, whose shoulders are also bare, now that she took off her jacket, and takes another sip of the pink, sweet cocktail Kevin handed him a few minutes ago.

Archie hasn’t drunk alcohol since forever, so he decides to take it slow. He can see that Betty is also just sipping her cocktail here and there, leaving a red smudge on the glass rim. Jughead doesn’t seem as bored with the party as everyone thought he would be, even though he isn’t drinking at all. Kevin and Veronica, however, are finishing glass after glass — apparently, they’re sorting out which characters from _Sex in the City_ they are. Veronica’s favorite, Archie now knows, is someone named Miranda.

“I’m such a Carrie,” Kevin decides, “but I’d choose Aidan. Mr. Big was just—”

“ _Please_ , we all know you’re a Samantha.” Veronica rolls her eyes. Archie hears Betty chuckle. Kevin hangs his mouth open, sort of offended, but Veronica takes a sip of her drink, determined. “B is Charlotte.”

“Oh, B _is_ Charlotte.”

“Why am I Charlotte?” Betty gets up, her hands on her hips. Archie and Jughead, left alone on the couch, exchange a half-dazed look. Jughead shrugs, and Archie’s glad that someone else has no idea what they’re talking about.

Kevin’s explanation of why Betty is _definitely_ Charlotte is interrupted by his excitement over an upbeat song that starts playing through the speaker. Veronica seems happy to hear it as well, and the two of them start dancing to it. Veronica grabs Betty’s hand and turns her around, making her laugh and scream a little.

Archie smiles when he sees Veronica beaming and moving her hips and arms, so carefree, so completely comfortable with something — he doesn’t think he’s seen her like this for a while, maybe ever since they were singing to Van Halen in his car, months ago.

He follows the fast beat of the song with his foot, shamelessly staring as Veronica dances with Betty and Kevin, the three of them following the lyrics to the chorus as they go, _you know what they say, you got the real thing when nothing else matters, I love you like that._

“So,” he hears Jughead start beside him, bringing him back to reality, “you and Veronica?”

Archie is slightly caught off guard before he remembers that Jughead actually _knows_. His face gets warm, nevertheless. “Yeah,” he says, quickly licking his lips. Jughead smiles, knowingly. “Jug—”

“Relax. I’m never telling anyone anything literally ever.”

Archie smiles too, taking a sip of his brand-new _Cosmo_ , the second of the night. “Good. That’s great.”

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s awesome.”

Archie frowns a bit. Jughead has known Veronica since forever — he still remembers how Betty told him once that the two of them had a connection like no one else, even with their attitudes towards each other. It’s weirdly satisfying to get this kind of endorsement from someone who knows her so well. “Thanks, Jug. She doesn’t want anyone to know yet, so—”

“Know what?” Jughead asks, narrowing his eyes. Archie chuckles when he notices Jughead drinking his cranberry juice with his pinky finger lifted.

 

 

 

 

“This pre-game is boring,” Kevin decides, suddenly, dropping on the floor next to Archie’s legs. Archie doesn’t particularly think he’s right — but he is getting a bit impatient about just _watching_ Veronica going around, giving everyone, except him, a lot of her attention. She’s sitting down now, diagonally opposed to him, her legs crossed and looking too good in her short skirt. Archie knows that he isn’t imagining the way she’s glancing at him over the rim of her glass. 

“Let’s just go to the club and get this over with,” Jughead says, almost with an eye-roll. Betty, who’s sitting on his legs, leans down to plant a kiss on his hair. He’s not wearing his usual beanie, tonight.

“It’s still too early.” Kevin pouts, looking at his empty glass. “V! Refills?”

“Of course, amour.” Veronica gets up. Archie can’t help but glance down at her cleavage when she leans over to take Kevin’s glass from him. He thinks she might not be wearing a bra, and _God damn_ , Archie is so ready to leave. “Why don’t we play a game?” she suggests from the kitchen, where she’s pouring more drinks into her glass and Kevin’s.

“A _game_?” Betty asks. Like Archie, she has been nursing her second cocktail for what feels like hours, now.

Kevin seems to perk up. “Truth or dare!”

“C’mon, Kev. You’re eighteen now. Isn’t _truth or dare_ a little juvenile?” Jughead asks. Everyone — except for Archie — rolls their eyes, and Betty laughs a little after doing so. Coming back from the kitchen space with new drinks in hand, Veronica sits down and crosses her legs again.

“Since you made this unfortunate comment, _Torombolo_ , you can start,” she says, sipping on her drink. Archie is not keeping tabs on how many she’s had so far, but he’s impressed with how well she can hold her liquor. “Truth or dare?”

Both Betty and Kevin giggle. Jughead, who’s holding Betty on his lap, looks back at Veronica with narrowed eyes. “Truth.”

Kevin whispers _boooring_ , and Veronica holds her hand up. “Is it true that you, Forsythe Jones, the Third, had a crush on Cheryl Blossom when we were kids?”

Everyone laughs, including Jughead, whose mouth hangs open for a second. “You’re good,” he says, before taking a sip of his cranberry juice, which means Veronica’s statement is true. Betty seems shocked, and both Kevin and Archie are laughing a little. “What can I say? She was mean. It was intriguing.”

“Jughead!” Betty exclaims, almost as if she’s offended. Jughead chuckles and then reaches to kiss her affectionately. Archie finds himself looking at Veronica, wishing she could be close to him like that, too — sitting on his lap like a couple, smiling after a kiss even if everyone is watching. She looks back at him just for a split-second and then turns her attention to her drink again.

Kevin makes a gagging sound that prompts Jughead and Betty to pull apart. “Your turn then, Mr. Blossom.”

“Okay. Archibald,” Jughead says, getting his attention. “Truth or dare?”

Archie looks around for a second, a _bit_ nervous. Not that he has any reason to be — somehow, he trusts Jughead not to spill their secret, but they also don’t know each other well enough for him to ask about something else. In his peripheral vision, he notices that Veronica is looking at them, anticipating his answer. “Truth,” he decides. Sounds less harming.

“Oh, _c’mon_. There’s no point on playing this game if you’re all going for truth,” Kevin says, a little annoyed.

“I’ll take a dare,” Veronica says when Archie is about to say he’s _sorry_. Everyone looks at her — Jughead makes an _oooo_ sound, making Veronica shrug, completely nonchalant.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Kevin sounds pleased. “Veronica Lodge, I dare you…” He makes a dramatic pause. “I dare you to kiss the prettiest boy in this room.”

“Yes!” Betty cheers, clapping. Archie can hear Jughead laughing quietly, saying _well, that ain’t me,_ and Archie’s face gets immediately warm. He looks at Veronica with his eyebrows raised, wondering _how the fucking hell_ they’re going to do that in front of everyone and keep pretending, but she doesn’t look intimidated — she’s not even looking back at him.

“Challenge accepted,” Veronica says. She chugs her cocktail, leaves the empty glass on the floor, and crosses the space between them. Everyone seems to be watching her move, expectant, and Archie feels his eyebrows raising even more. But then Veronica leans down and pulls _Kevin’s_ chin towards her face, kissing him full on the lips.

Both Jughead and Betty laugh at that, shocked. Archie can’t control the muscles in his face for a minute — his eyes narrow, his jaw clenches, and he _hates it_. He _knows_ that Kevin is gay and that his hand on the back of her head is just for show; he _knows_ that they’re _not_ into that, but did it have to happen like this?

Why are they _still_ kissing?

It probably doesn’t even last that long, but it feels like a whole fucking hour. Archie suspends his breathing while Kevin and Veronica kiss, trying hard not to break the glass that he’s holding. He can hear Betty and Jughead’s amusement, somewhere in the background, when Kevin and Veronica pull apart, a smudge of berry lipstick on his mouth.

She smiles, coming back to her seat, avoiding Archie’s gaze. Kevin looks scandalized. “That hasn't happened since freshman year.”

Archie forces himself to smile along with everyone’s laughter. It’s _irrational_ — he knows that she did it only to steer the attention away from _Operation Varchie_ or whatever, but he still feels bummed that he had to witness Veronica kissing someone else. The group doesn’t even have time to deal with what just happened when the bell rings.

“Oh, that must be Moose!” Kevin says, chirpy, getting up quickly to open the door. “Moose, you just missed me being _very heterose_ —”

“Kev! Happy Birthday!”

Archie looks at Betty, his eyes widening, and she responds in the same way. Over the threshold, with Moose waiting right behind her, Midge Klump throws her arms around Kevin’s neck to hug him.

 

 

 

 

The ride from their building to the club of Kevin’s choice is _awkward_. They get Ubers, but the division doesn’t seem right — Kevin rides with Betty, Jughead, and Veronica, while Archie finds himself in the backseat of the other car, with Moose and Midge by his side. 

Their pre-game was halted the very same minute Midge jumped on Kevin to greet him. The silence and exchanging of uncomfortable looks were blatant — Archie, Betty, Jughead, and Moose, himself, knew that his girlfriend wasn’t supposed to be there. The only person oblivious to the situation was Veronica, who received Midge with a small scream and a hug, apparently really excited to have another girl join the party. 

Kevin, who had _just_ said it was too early to go to the club, changed his mind very quickly.

They park in front of this place called _Smartbar/Metro_ — further west from their home — which doesn’t look like much more than a door to a 19 th century building. It’s the first time Archie has _really_ gone clubbing — there were no such venues in Riverdale, and his only reference are the parties at _Chez Blossom_ — but he’s not nearly as excited as he thought he would be. Maybe the alcohol has made him extra bummed, but in the car with Moose and Midge, randomly engaging in small talk with Midge whenever she started it, all he could think about was Veronica choosing to kiss Kevin instead of him.

She’s still not paying much attention to him when they meet again in the line. Kevin goes in first, marching inside the club as if he’s determined to have the best night of his life. Without throwing Archie a second glance, Veronica links her arm with Betty, pulling her away from Jughead. Both girls are giggling over something Veronica tells Betty, and Archie clenches his jaw again — he’s annoyed with himself. He can’t believe he’s getting jealous of _Betty_ , now.

“You first, man.” Jughead places a hand on Archie’s shoulder, reminding him that he’s next in line, once the girls walk in.

“ID, please,” the bouncer requests. He’s about two heads taller than Archie and twice as wide. Archie considers just _leaving_ , for a second, before he shoves his hand in his pocket to get his wallet out and show the bouncer the stupid fake ID that Reggie conjured up for him.

His legs feel jittery, feeling a little nervous, as the bouncer analyses the ID. He glances behind him — Midge has her arms around Moose’s torso, and Archie’s gaze meets Moose’s for a second. He can’t help the disappointed expression that forms on his face. “Wilbur Wilkins?” the bouncer finally asks, catching his attention.

“Yes, sir.”

The bouncer sighs and shakes his head. For a moment, Archie thinks he’s going to say that he’s sorry, but they just _know_ this is a fake ID, when the bouncer just gives the card back and makes space for Archie to pass. “I feel you, man. I’m Ralph Richards.”

 

 

 

 

The club atmosphere is intoxicating, and that’s the best way to put it. He’s hit with music so loud that he can feel it thumping against his ribcage and vibrating the ground beneath him. The lights change from red and purple to blue and green, reflecting on the sweet smoke surrounding him. He waits for Jughead to get in, and they put their winter coats in the coat room. The whole place is still sort of empty, so it doesn't take long to spot Kevin and the girls at the bar. 

“They’re getting shots,” Betty screams over the music once they get closer. Kevin and Veronica are, indeed, getting tequila shots from the bartender, who thanks _Monica_ once she gives back Veronica’s ID. “I can’t believe Moose brought Midge to Kev’s party!” Betty tells Archie, while Kevin and Veronica are occupied with their tequila drinking ritual.

“I can’t believe _you_ brought _me_ to Kev’s party,” Jughead answers, sounding annoyed as he shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s looking around with somewhat crazy eyes, like someone trapped in a nightmare. “I’ll go see if they have a smoking area. I don’t smoke, but at least it’s outside.”

Betty sighs, watching as Jughead walks away. Then, the sound of Kevin tapping the counter repeatedly gets her attention. “¡Una más!” he says, and Veronica’s laughter is almost louder than the music.

“Okay. I’ll handle Kevin and Jughead, and you take care of Veronica.” She glances at Archie, opening her purse. “But let me buy us a drink, first. There’s no way we can endure this night without one.”

 

 

 

  

Betty says she read somewhere that it’s better if you drink the same kind of liquor throughout the night, and that you should drink a sip of water for every sip of alcohol, so she gets Archie another cranberry-vodka mix and a bottle of water, soon disappearing to search for the _outdoor smoking area_ that Jughead retreated to. 

Archie is still at the bar. He doesn’t know if he should try to dance. The club has filled quickly, and Veronica and Kevin were off to the dancefloor as soon as they drank their second tequila shot. But now, Kevin has found some guy to dance with, and Veronica is dancing with Midge, even though she had promised that they’d find a way to be together the minute they stepped into the club.

The DJ is playing a mix of pop and hip-hop remixes, and the girls seem to be having fun as they swing their arms and move their hips to the beat. Archie is leaning against the counter, watching them dance as he sips his drink (and his water) slowly, wondering if he _should_ approach her somehow or if he should wait.

Suddenly, Moose shows up by his side, asking the bartender for a beer. “Want one?” he casually asks Archie.

“I’m fine,” he answers, harsher than he intended to, showing Moose the drink Betty bought him. He regrets being so short the minute Moose turns to him with an apologetic look on his face.

“Look, man, I know what you’re thinking. Who am I to show up at Kevin’s birthday with my girlfriend, right?”

“Dude. This is honestly the last thing on my mind right now. Don’t—”

“It’s not like I _invited_ her, okay?” Moose goes on with his explanation. He quickly glances to the dancefloor, where Midge and Veronica are still dancing. “I wanted to be here with Kev, but she found out about it and I couldn’t—”

Archie feels like his head is going to burst due to the loud music — which is the only thing he’s enjoyed so far — and Moose screaming on top of it. He’s done trying to understand what the hell happens between Moose, Midge, and Kevin. Maybe he’s too traditional or too much of a small-town boy, but the mere idea of being in a relationship that involves a third party sounds _crazy_ to him. “Moose, really, I don’t— I have nothing to do with that. Whatever is good for Kevin, is good for me, but if it’s not good for Kevin—” He heaves out a breath, rubbing his forehead for a second. “You should talk to him. Not to me.”

The bartender comes back with Moose’s beer. “Yeah,” he nods, looking to the dancefloor again, but this time to where Kevin is, “you’re right.”

 

 

 

 

Some minutes later, Archie sees Moose approaching Kevin on the dancefloor. He scratches his head, not sure that _this_ is the best moment to have this kind of discussion, and then moves his glance to where Veronica and Midge are. 

 _Were_. Apparently, Midge has also spotted her boyfriend talking to his other boyfriend — this is really going to give Archie an aneurysm one day — and has left Veronica dancing alone, going to wherever Moose was leading Kevin.

The whole thing looks like a setup for a disaster — one that Archie does not want to be a part of. He finishes his drink, putting it back on the counter, and considers if he’s having another one when Veronica materializes by his side.

She’s glowing. Really, everything about her shimmers. From her sequined top to the green eyeshadow that’s mixed with a darker one, to the berry lipstick on her mouth and the way her skin is just slightly sweaty around her neck, her smile is wide and beaming. Archie doesn’t think he’s ever seen her like this, so carefree and sparkly.

“Hey, handsome,” she says in a sultry voice, running a hand through her shiny black hair, as if she didn’t ignore him throughout the entire night until this very moment. Archie wonders if all this time she knew exactly where he was standing, _expecting_ him to notice her. She looks up at him, just barely touching his arm. “Are you alone?”

Archie feels something in his throat. “I don’t know,” he finds himself saying, bringing the water bottle to his lips. He feels like a petty idiot and doesn’t know _why_ he’s playing this game, but she’s lifted up an eyebrow in response. “Am I?”

Veronica giggles, shrugging her bare shoulders a little. She stops when she realizes he’s not laughing, and the way they lock eyes make his stomach turn over. She licks her lips slowly and then holds his hand. Archie lets her intertwine her fingers with his. He wants to ask if she enjoyed kissing Kevin right in front of him, or if she ignored him on purpose so far, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to let his stupid jealousy take over and spoil the good thing they’ve got going on.

She’s still looking at him as she pulls him away from the bar, into the haze of the dancefloor. Her eyes are glossy drunk, but also very focused on him. Archie lets himself be steered and feels his features softening as hers do.

Veronica is glowing even more with the way the colorful lights hit the beads of her top. She starts dancing, but she doesn’t let go of his hands — it makes him move his arms in sort of a ridiculous way that breaks the intensity of their gaze, making both of them chuckle.

Archie makes a conscious effort to pay attention to what song is playing — it sounds like something from the 80’s or early 90’s, the artificial notes of the keyboard resonating in his brain — but the music seems really secondary when Veronica lets go of his hands and starts dancing by herself, closing her eyes and lifting up her arms until the cropped top exposes more of her skin.

He comes closer when he doesn’t feel like watching anymore. Veronica is a force that Archie can only bend to — there’s no point in trying to deny that. The front part of their bodies aligns, and he manages to place one thigh between her legs and one hand on her lower back as he moves to the rhythm she’s imposing. Veronica bites back a smile, one of her hands on the side of his abdomen, over his shirt but under his jacket.

Archie isn’t sure he’s going to be able to stay another minute without kissing her, but when he’s leaning down to do so, she turns around. The hand that was on her lower back is now resting on her belly. He keeps dancing with her but uses this hand to pull her closer, her back against his chest. She giggles, making her muscles tighten under his fingers, and it’s just— it’s just _really hot_.

“You’re not playing fair,” he whispers on her ear, leaving a soft kiss on her earlobe. He can feel her arms covered with goosebumps and kisses her again, a little lower this time. She tastes salty and sweet at the same time.

She turns her head a little, until their lips _almost_ touch. “I never said I would,” she says, pulling her face away from him one more time, still dancing against him. Archie thinks that he, too, can be unfair, and pushes her hair away from her neck. He kisses her right above the line of her choker, all tongue and teeth. The way her breath picks up makes him smile.

“C’mon,” he mutters, swiping his tongue up to the bone behind her ear, biting on her earlobe. Veronica turns in his arms, then, her hand on the back of his neck and her mouth suddenly on his. It’s rushed, _hard_ — they kiss like they haven’t done it in a million years. Archie cradles her head, his fingers diving into her hair. He’s not sure if they’re supposed to be kissing like this in such a public place, but he can’t bring himself to care.

 

 

 

 

“I need another drink.” She says, pulling apart, planting a kiss on his chin. Archie figures that catching his breath is a good idea. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been wrapped up on the dancefloor together, using dancing as a pretense — five or six songs that blended together and that he couldn’t pay any attention to.

He has all intention of following her to the bar, but he just ends up pulling her closer to him again. “I need another kiss.”

It’s a dumb thing to say, he knows, but he says it anyway. Veronica laughs and grants his wishes, hands on his face. She bites his lower lip when she wants it to be over and pulls him by the hand back to the bar. She manages to prop herself up on a stool, squeezing between the other people trying to reach the bartender.

Archie stands behind her and looks around. He can’t see any familiar faces, which might be good or bad. He leans in, kissing the bare skin of her shoulder blade, making her smile as she orders whatever drink she’s ordering. “Do you want anything?” She asks him.

 _You_ , he thinks, but that would be an even dumber thing to say. “I’ve stopped,” he kisses the curve of her shoulder, now. Veronica turns around a little, waiting for her drink to arrive, and looks at him with slightly narrowed eyes.

“What?”

“You’re like—” Veronica starts, reaching out to touch his face, thumb against his cheek. “The prettiest guy I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, really?” She nods. She doesn’t sound or look all that sober, and it makes Archie laugh, brushing her hair out of her face. He kisses her quickly. “Thought that was Kevin.”

Veronica rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile curling up in the corner of her lips, forming dimples around her mouth. Archie feels like kissing her again, but the bartender comes with her drink — it’s green and doesn’t seem like it follows the instructions of not mixing liquors — and he just watches as she wraps her lips around the straw, taking a long sip.

“Oh, I found you guys!”

“B!” Veronica _almost_ jumps from the stool, excited to see her friend. Archie discreetly runs a hand over his mouth, in case there’s any lipstick on his lips, and then thinks that Veronica’s mouth is completely bare. There’s no way they didn’t get caught. “You’re back! Where’s your boyfriend?! Shots!”

“Hey,” Betty lightly hugs Veronica back, looking over at Archie. “No, no shots, sweetie. I’m taking Kevin home,” she tells him.

“Is everything alright?” Archie asks. He sobered up a lot, he thinks, ever since he went to the dancefloor with Veronica, but he can’t say the same for her. She’s touching Betty’s hair affectionately, tidying up the soft curls on her shoulder, but seems a little oblivious to whatever the blonde has to say.

“Barely. He got into an argument with Moose, and he’s pretty upset, so.” She makes a face.

“Do you want me to come with you or—”

“But we just got here!” Veronica pouts, drinking more of the green stuff on her glass. Archie ends up smiling a little, like an idiot. It’s a relief when he sees that Betty is smiling too.

“It’s okay. You guys should stay. Just make sure to take her home safely, alright, Arch? I trust you.”

Archie feels a sting of guilt for some reason, but he doesn’t have time to act on it when Veronica giggles. “Why don’t you trust _me_ , B?” She wiggles her eyebrows, her lips pursed around the straw, and Betty rolls her eyes.

“Oh, I know better.”

 

 

 

 

Betty doesn’t take even five minutes to say goodbye, but it’s enough time for Veronica to finish her drink and get another one while on Archie’s watch. He doesn’t mind, because when they go back to the dancefloor, back to pretending they’re there to dance, she takes sips between kisses and tastes like lime, sugar, and mint. 

She moves around him and with him, dances and touches his chest, bites the straw and bites his lower lip until it’s sensitive. Now that he knows their friends are not around, he lets his hands search for her skin, under that ridiculously flimsy top, up her back — he finds only hot, bare skin under his palm, confirming that she isn’t wearing a bra like he guessed before.

The song playing is sexier than the others, a low hip-hop beat. Archie feels like he’s holding onto every last shred of his willpower. Veronica is dancing with her back towards him again, grinding her hips against his, and he just wants to press her against a wall, so they _at least_ can find some proper friction between them.

She definitely feels the effect she has on his body because she turns around with a devilish grin. “Let’s go somewhere,” she murmurs, her mouth sugar-sweet on his, her hand resting on the waistline of his jeans. Archie nods, because he doesn’t think he can do anything else, and she holds his hand and starts pulling him amongst the sea of people — when did it get so crowded?

“Ronnie,” he calls when he notices they’re just wandering the club aimlessly for a few minutes. He almost laughs when he realizes she might be _lost_. “Where do you wanna go?”

“There was a handicap bathroom somewhere. I remember going there with—” she stops just before saying _Reggie_. Archie raises his eyebrows — but he just spent too much time making out with her to be mad. He snorts when she makes an apologetic face. “Oops. _Awkwaaard_ ,” she sing-songs, and then her eyebrows knit together, looking around as if she’s trying to figure out where they really are in the club.

Archie does laugh this time. “I think you’re drunk, babe,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. The gesture makes her burrow her eyebrows even more. “We should just go home.”

“No such thing.” She stomps her foot, suddenly looking like a little kid about to throw a tantrum. “We’re gonna find that bathroom, Archie Andrews!”

“Right. C’mon, let’s get our coats.” He swings an arm around her shoulders, steering her to where he thinks is the way out. Veronica whines a little.

“You are boring,” she drags out her words as Archie drags her to the coat room. He’s still laughing to himself. It seems a little unbelievable that they were so turned on, not so long ago. A lady takes their tags so she can give back their coats, and Veronica keeps looking like a child. “ _Blah._ I’m serious _. Blah-rchie._ ”

He cracks up despite himself, reaching out to get their coats. “Let’s go, boozy.”

 

 

 

 

In the Lyft, after telling the driver that Archie’s name is actually _Blah-rchibald_ and announcing that she wants to stop at McDonald’s, Veronica cuddles close to Archie’s side, pressing a soft kiss to his arm, and almost immediately falls asleep with her head on his shoulder. 

“Got your hands full with this one, huh?” The driver comments, sounding amused.

 _You’re in love with her,_ he hears Kevin’s voice in the back of his head. Archie puts his arm around her, getting more comfortable, and plants a kiss on her hairline, a smile on his lips. _It’s obvious_.

 

 

 

 

Veronica wakes up all at once — she doesn’t know if it’s the light streaming through the large windows of Archie’s bedroom, or the noises around the loft — but one moment she’s in deep slumber and the next she’s fully awake, a headache kicking in behind her eyes. 

 _Ugh_ , is the general feeling. She’s parched, like she’s eaten chalk, and her calves hurt from wearing high heels the whole night. Veronica stirs under the duvet and hides her face in the pillow.

A chuckle comes from somewhere in the room. “I’ll try again. Good morning!”

She flips her body to the other side, begrudgingly opening her eyes to find Archie. He’s wearing dark blue sweatpants and a worn-out white t-shirt. His hair is crazy messy, like he also just woke up. Despite that, he’s holding out a bottle of water, and Veronica has never been happier to see him even though she can’t do much but groan.

“You’re a cape-less hero,” she says, barely lifting her arm to reach out for the bottle. Archie shows her that he has a blister pack of Advil in his other hand. “I swear, you’re gonna get so lucky.”

He chuckles. “You keep promising that,” he jokes, sitting on the bed next to her when she sits up to take a tablet and drinks all the water in big gulps. “Scoot.”

“Can we do this?” she asks, frowning, but gives him space to get under the duvet with her. Archie immediately puts an arm around her waist, and she notices that she’s wearing a t-shirt very similar to his instead of her clubbing outfit. It occurs to her that she has little recollection of what happened last night.

“It’s daytime. Plus, the door is open.” He shrugs, planting a kiss on her shoulder. The door is, indeed, half-opened. “Jeff kicked me off the couch. The sports highlights are on.”

He brings his face closer to hers, smiling softly. Veronica is aware that she probably has morning breath — _alcohol_ morning breath — but Archie doesn’t seem to mind, pressing his lips to hers in a lingering kiss. “So…” She feels light stubble on his jaw when she touches his face. “What did I miss?”

Archie snorts, placing the empty water bottle on his nightstand. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks, lying down and bringing her with him. Veronica rests her head on his chest, her arm around his torso. He’s so warm, and the cotton of his t-shirt is so _soft_.

“Mmm. I took shots with Kevin. You were watching me dance with Midge.” Archie’s hand is heavy on her waist, his thumb making slow circles over the fabric of his own t-shirt. “You and I started dancing, too, and kissing.” She smiles when feels him smile against the top of her head. Veronica remembers _that_ clearly, with vivid details of how he managed to cover her whole skin with goosebumps while kissing her neck and whispering things on her ear. “Then… I think I had an unnecessary mojito,” she says and then lifts her head a little to look at him. “Did I take shots with Betty?”

Archie smiles. “No, Betty left before you could convince her, and you had _two_ unnecessary mojitos.”

“That explains a lot,” Veronica says, lowering her face and laughing quietly against his chest. Archie presses a kiss to her forehead. “I think the last thing I remember is going back to the dancefloor with you. Then, it’s all sort of a blur.”

“Well. We were making out for a while, and then you tried to lure me to the same bathroom you used to visit with your _ex-boyfriend_.”

“I did not!” Veronica lifts her head again, quick enough to regret it. Archie has a smug — albeit soft — expression on his face when he nods, reaffirming what he just said, and Veronica feels her cheeks heating up. “Oh, my God.” She hides her face on his chest one more time. “And you weren’t lured?”

“Nope. You were drunk, so I just brought you home, helped you change, and went to the couch.”

Veronica rests her chin on his chest, looking up at him. Archie brushes her hair off of her face, the way he does sometimes. She feels a smile tugging at her lips, the blood in her veins suddenly so warm, bringing a different heat to her cheeks and to her fingertips. He’s such a good guy. Veronica thinks he’s the best person she’s ever met, and she feels so lucky, all of sudden, to be the one laying with him on a cold Sunday morning. “Look at you,” she says, biting her lower lip, going back to teasing before she gets overwhelmed by her own thoughts. “Such a Boy Scout .”

He lifts one shoulder in a small shrug, and Veronica can’t help but kiss him, as gently as he deserves.

Something crosses her mind. “Do you think anyone saw us?”

Archie tilts his head, as if he’s thinking back. “I’m not sure,” he concludes. “I mean, if someone did, it was probably Betty. She asked me to take you home,” he says and suddenly looks a little guilty. Veronica raises her eyebrows. “What? I feel a little bad about lying to her.”

“You didn’t _lie_. You just didn’t mention that you would take me to _your_ home, not mine. Therefore, you just… hid the truth.”

“Is that how you get everything you want?” he asks, teasingly. Veronica opens her mouth in faux-offense, and Archie lifts an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure that hiding the truth is the definition of lying.”

“I’m not gonna discuss moral boundaries with you, Steve Rogers.” Veronica rolls her eyes and kisses him, in the middle of his smiling lips. “But I will text Betty and say that I am safely under my Hungarian silk-filled duvet at The Pembrooke, which is just second-best compared to this,” she says, leaning her cheek against his chest again and closing her eyes.

She senses him chuckling, but after that, he gets very quiet, tenderly trailing his fingers through her hair. Veronica feels the sleep slowly coming back to her as the Advil kicks in and lessens her headache. She doesn’t think she’s ever been more comfortable than she is now, wearing his t-shirt and laying down in Archie’s arms in his downtown loft. “Archiekins?” He _hums_ in response, suggesting that he’s probably almost falling asleep himself. Veronica presses a kiss to the center of his chest. “Is it okay if I stay here until I have to go back home?”

She doesn’t want to go back to The Pembrooke until the very last, possible minute, and she thought about visiting Cheryl after waking up, just so she wouldn’t overstay her welcome at his house. So, she feels almost embarrassed about asking him this.

Veronica sort of expects him to look at her with slightly widened eyes like he’s done before, maybe surprised that she feels the need to _ask_ , maybe pitying her somehow, trying not think _poor little rich girl, doesn’t want to go home._ But he does none of these things — he just keeps smoothing her hair, his breath as even and soothing as his voice when he says, “It’s okay, Ronnie.”

And the craziest thing is, she believes him, letting herself go and joining him in another hour of slumber.

 

 

 

 

Veronica spends probably the laziest, coziest Sunday of her life with Archie and his parents. It’s freezing cold and snowing, so no one feels like going out — she takes a hot shower in Mary’s bathroom, puts on one of Archie’s sweatshirts paired with thick, black leggings, and cuddles on the couch with him, while Jeff cooks lunch and Mary sips on red wine at the kitchen table. 

They retreat to Archie’s bedroom again after lunch and he turns on his laptop so they can watch some Netflix. Veronica tucks her socked feet under his calves and ends up falling asleep again, still recovering from her drinking extravaganza. She wakes up about an hour later, to the soft strum of his guitar and a song he was humming in a low voice — _“the snow was falling lightly right when I kissed you…”_

He’s sitting by the window, hair falling over his eyes when he lowers his head to write something in a notebook. For a minute, Veronica wonders if she has indeed woken up, or if seeing Archie like that, singing quietly, so focused, was just part of a dream. He stops playing when he notices that she’s been watching, that adorable rosy shade appearing on his cheeks, and sets his guitar down to crawl into bed with her again, kissing her softly until the sun starts to set and she needs to go home.

 ** _today was nice_** , Archie texts her the minute she steps into the car with Andre. She bites back a smile, not knowing if she’s _allowed_ to feel so content.

She sends him a string of purple hearts. **_i’ll see you tomorrow,_** she writes. **_we actually have to start working on that history thing._**

**_lol, and i’m the boy scout._ **

Veronica giggles. **_shut up, andrews,_** she types. And then, because apparently, she’s completely helpless. **_i already miss you._**

He sends her a selfie as an answer. Sitting on the couch, red hair messy as it was the whole day, lips stretched into that boyish smile of his.

Veronica stares at it through half the ride.

 

 

 

On Monday, various obligations keep Archie and Veronica away from each other. They already don’t have classes together that day, and Kevin tells Betty and Veronica that Coach Clayton called all the Mustangs for a _talk_ during lunch break, something regarding their away game against the Grizzlies, that was coming soon. 

Something’s off with her friends. Veronica eats her lunch and expects one of them to ask about the club — maybe mention that she stayed alone with Archie, that “he took her home”, start their matchmaking vendetta one more time — but weirdly enough, no one says anything. Betty is, for some reason, very careful and patronizing in every word she says, and Kevin’s voice is weirdly high-pitched throughout their fifty minutes of lunch.

She wonders if, maybe, something else happened at the party that no one told her about but ultimately decides not to ask. If she doesn't pry, the chances of them not turning the tables and asking _her_ things she doesn't want to answer are significantly bigger.

Archie texts her during her last class, telling her that he has some free time before basketball practice if she wants to meet and at least start working on their history assignment. It’s been such a busy day that they didn’t even get to text or steal moments between periods like they usually do — and after yesterday, it feels so weird to meet him at the student lounge and not kiss him hello.

“What a day.” It’s the first thing Archie says, throwing himself on the couch, next to her. He does sound and, look, tired, not at all like the relaxed boy that sent her a selfie the day before. “Coach gathered us to talk. Jason didn’t show up, and—” He heaves out a breath. “I don’t know.”

Veronica smiles a little, feeling an urge to place a hand on his knee for support, but they’re not really alone — a few other seniors are still there, hanging out by the vending machine — and she does _not_ want to give anyone a reason to _talk_. “Are you sure you want to start this now?” She shows him the history book she’d been marking with post-its.

Archie shrugs. “The past does seem better than the present,” he says, offering her a grin. It’s the first time they actually lock eyes today, and Veronica feels the need to school her expression into something less mushy.

“That’s overly dramatic,” she slightly rolls her eyes, making him chuckle. They can’t touch or lean against each other, so Veronica just hands him a pad of paper to take notes and opens the book, starting to tell him what she has in mind for their project.

She’s been talking non-stop for ten minutes when she notices that he isn’t writing anything down, tapping the pencil against the paper a little impatiently, in the same rhythm as he’s shaking his leg. He _is_ looking at her, but it’s different from the way he normally looks at her — his eyes aren’t really focusing on her face, but on her neck and maybe a little down her torso, and there’s something else in them.

When he realizes that she caught him staring, he gets all embarrassed and runs a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I can’t focus.”

Veronica frowns. “What’s wrong?”

He looks at her as if he’s slightly surprised that she doesn’t _know_ what’s on his mind. Veronica raises her eyebrows and Archie gets even more flushed, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “I don’t think you wanna know.”

 _Oh._ Veronica feels her heart pulsing at the base of her throat. “I think I wanna know,” she says, biting the inside of her mouth as she searches for his eyes. Archie looks at her for a beat and quickly wets his lips.

“I’ve been wanting to press you against a wall ever since Saturday,” he confesses, quiet so no one else will hear him, and the same flush that’s on his face goes up to hers. They’re not even sitting all that close to each other, and she can sense the heat radiating from his body.

She sinks her nails into her knee. “How long until you have to go to practice?”

Archie tilts his head, glancing quickly at his watch. “Fifteen minutes. Why?”

 

 

 

 

Veronica isn't exactly sure how it happens. One second, they’re in the student lounge, and the next, she’s pushing Archie into the janitor’s closet under the stairs, another place she did visit with Reggie once upon a time, but this time she’s smart (or maybe just sober) enough not to announce it. Classes are over, leaving the hallways empty, but she still makes sure to tell him to _shush_ before crashing her mouth against his. 

Archie kisses her hard, grasping the back of her thighs to haul her against the shelves behind her. She wraps her legs around him, her skirt hiking up — she gasps when she feels the sturdiness of his jeans pressed against her core.

Veronica starts tugging at his letterman jacket, trying to remove it from his body. Archie puts her back on the ground just so he can get rid of it — he’s looking down at her shirt, as if trying to figure out if he’s going to kiss her again or get her out of her clothes, but Veronica decides it for him, reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling it up until it’s off her body. She had no idea this was going to happen, but she’s suddenly glad for the lacy black bra she chose to wear underneath.

“Fuck,” Archie murmurs when he sees her lace-covered breasts, and it’s not until he’s kissing her again, grabbing a fistful of her hair in one of his hands, the other on her left breast, pressing hard into her flesh, that she realizes they’re inside the confines of a closet like the first time they kissed.

Somehow, that awareness turns her on even more.

Archie’s tongue goes from her mouth to her neck, sucking on her pulse point. She feels her eyes rolling into the back of her head, allowing herself to enjoy the way he’s kissing her for a second. But he’s so hard against her thigh, his breathing is ragged — the fact that he wants her so much overwhelms her, pulls a shiver up from the bottom of her spine.

She quickly opens his jeans, pulling him out from his underwear. Archie moans _Ronnie_ against her skin, both hands on her breasts now, and Veronica feels like she’s a wet mess. “C’mon,” she whispers, rubbing him against her over the fabric of her tights, almost whimpering, getting out of her shoes.

Archie listens to her. He takes a step back, and slowly pulls down her tights and her panties until they’re off her legs, his eyes following the skin that he uncovers. He looks directly at her center, under her pleated skirt. The way he parts his red lips while looking at her makes her imagine a million things, and she _wants_ it, but they only have ten or so minutes. “Come back here, Andrews.”

After putting on a condom, he does what she asks, going up and kissing her on her open mouth while touching her the way only he knows how to do. She can’t help but moan a little louder — and he ends up placing a hand over her mouth, smiling a little. It’s right then, when he smiles, that Veronica understands that she’s completely mad about him.

 

 

 

  

They have rushed sex in the janitor’s closet, at school, in the middle of the afternoon, half their clothes still on. Veronica comes embarrassingly fast, her mouth hanging open. Archie bites on her shoulder when he follows, so deep inside her as her walls clench around him, and it’s _delicious._ It’s probably the best feeling in the world. 

His lips are on her throat afterwards, and she can feel his grin blossoming.

“Maybe now you can focus and carry on with your day.” She catches her breath, unlocking her fisted hand from his hair.

Archie laughs. “If that was your goal…” He kisses her again, nibbling on her lower lip. “I don’t think I’ll be able to focus ever again.”

Veronica relishes the flattery, suppressing a smile. “You’re gonna be late for practice,” she says. They’re both sweaty and a mess when Archie gets off her, and he has red lipstick smeared on his mouth. She’s not ready to go an entire day before the next time she sees him. “Maybe you can wait for cheer practice to end, and we can go to my place to finish the assignment?”

“I thought we just did that.” Archie raises one eyebrow, smug and unkept. Veronica laughs, punching him lightly on the arm. He nods, then. “I’ll see you later.”

 

 

  

 

Archie takes the quickest of showers before practice and is a good ten minutes late. Coach Clayton isn’t pleased and punishes everyone with a series of push-ups and suicide runs that go hard on his muscles. He’s tired, and he misses some baskets, causing Reggie to call him a waste of space. Nothing, however, seems to dampen his mood after the moment he just shared to with Veronica. 

(Inside a closet. Like the first time they kissed. Archie doesn’t think he would admit that to anyone but living a moment that only permeated his late-night fantasies was mind-blowing.)

After practice, he texts Ms. Baker to reschedule his session for later on in the week and sits on the bleachers with his history book, trying to remember what Veronica wanted him to do when they were talking about the project in the student lounge. He glances at the cheerleaders every now and then, to watch Veronica leading the girls through their routine for the next game. They’re dancing to a remix of Shawn Mendes’s _There’s Nothing Holding Me Back_ , and Archie grins to himself as he sings along quietly. The lyrics just seem very fitting for this afternoon.

The girls go to their locker room after they’re done with their routine. He knows that they’ve noticed that he’s there, but he doesn’t think much of it until Ginger Lopez passes right in front of him, looking freshly showered.

“Hey, pumpkin spice,” she greets, smiling a little. Archie lifts his head from the book and smiles back. “What you’re doing here?”

“Waiting for Veronica,” he says without thinking, and she lifts both her eyebrows towards her hairline. _Shit._ Archie swallows and then schools his face into the blandest expression possible. “We have to work on our project.” He shows her the book in his hand.

If she has something to say about it, Archie never learns — in his peripheral vision, he sees Veronica approaching them, her hair shiny like it’s just been blow-dried. Veronica glances from Archie to Ginger — he thinks he can see her chewing on her lower lip for a second, before she smiles. “Archie! Thanks for waiting. Are we going to the library?”

He momentarily frowns. She’s really _good_ at this. He says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Yeah, sure. Should we get the bus?”

She makes a face. “Andre will drive us.” Veronica turns to Ginger then, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder before crossing her arms in front of her torso. Archie starts putting his things in his backpack. “Do you want a ride, Ginger?”

“No thanks, V. I have my car. See you guys tomorrow,” she says, cheery, glancing over her shoulder once she leaves. Archie gets up, blowing out a breath. Veronica keeps her arms crossed until Ginger disappears from the gym.

“ _The bus_.” Veronica glances at him, looking a little annoyed by something he can’t pinpoint. Archie feels his face softening as he smiles at her, a little apologetic. She ends up smiling back. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

In the car, Veronica kisses him slowly, one of her hands on his cheek, the other resting on his knee. It’s different from the kisses they shared in the closet, but it gets his heart racing anyway. Once they get to The Pembrooke, she makes sure that the lobby is clear of any Coopers (or Jason) before allowing Archie to get into the elevator with her. 

She steps closer to the mirror, to rub off a smudge of mascara under her eyes, and Archie bites back a smile as he watches her do that. He takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Have I told you how pretty you are, today?” he asks quietly, smiling at their reflection together. Veronica rests her hands on his forearms, and she smiles when she blushes.

“You’re just saying that because I rocked your world earlier on,” she says in a mocking voice, but the look on her face says otherwise. Archie leans down to kiss her cheek. “We’re here to work, Archiekins. Being cute because you want to get laid again is not going to help.”

He laughs. “It helps a little.”

Veronica is giggling when she unlocks the penthouse’s front door. Archie is about to pull her by the hand so he can give her another kiss — when Veronica stops completely. In the middle of the living room, talking on the phone, is a man that Archie can only assume is Veronica’s father.

“—told you. It’s non-negotiable,” he says, his voice firm and serious, at about the same time that he realizes they’re standing at the front door and knits his eyebrows together. Archie doesn’t think Veronica is _breathing._ “I’ll call you back. _Mija_?”

“Daddy,” Veronica says. Her voice sounds a little weird. Archie feels his face warm and holds on to the straps of his backpack just so he has something to do with his hands. “I— it’s five o’clock, why are you home?”

“I have a flight to Toronto at nine,” he answers but remains extremely stern. Archie feels his dark, brown eyes on him and sees the way he clenches his jaw. “Are you going to tell me who is the gentleman standing behind you?”

Veronica blinks, as if she just remembered that Archie was still standing there. She opens and closes her mouth, glancing quickly at Archie, who lets go of his backpack and wipes his hands on his jeans, squaring up his shoulders.

“Yes, sir,” Archie answers when Veronica doesn’t. It’s not ideal, to meet Veronica’s father without notice, but if he speaks up it shows that he’s not just _some guy_ she’s bringing home. And, since they know already, it’s more decent if he says who he is. His dad would approve of that, so Veronica's probably would, too. He takes a step forward, getting ready to reach out for a handshake. “I’m Archie Andrews, Veronica’s—"

“—history partner,” Veronica finishes.

The word _boyfriend_ dies inside Archie’s mouth.

 

 

 

 

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to think you guys love me and trust me and will enjoy this chapter with nothing but varchie being the cutest even though it ends with... hiram lol.
> 
> this was pretty fast! expect next update to take a little longer but there's good reason for that! anyway, kev's party was a success to some but terrible for kevin, because moose took midge and oh boy, will this ever end? also, varchie + closets... *-* we love one couple only. what do you think will happen next?
> 
> thank you SO MUCH for the nice reviews that i'm answering little by little, they mean a lot to me. these chapters are just getting longer and longer so I am happy that some of you are still sticking around. I love all the support, especially from my beta-girl nic, the best ever.
> 
> so many songs in this chapter! beginning: animal by troye sivan. the song k/v/b dance to: love you like that by dagny. the song archie was writing: october by jon d. and, finally, there's nothing holdin me back by shawn mendes. see you soon!


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